


Light at the End of the Tunnel

by fubukishirou



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: AND GET READY FOR THE RIDE OF UR LIFE, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Chronic Pain, Depression, Drug Withdrawal, Fluff and Angst, Heavy Angst, Hey folks, Isolation, M/M, Medication, Mind/Mood Altering Substances, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reconciliation, Recovery, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Self-Medication, Substance Abuse, btw i have bpd so i can make that joke, hope youre STRAPPED IN, i call this one the BPD, keep ur hands inside the seat at all times, so named for the emotional rollercoaster ur trapped in
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:13:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 29,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28571322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fubukishirou/pseuds/fubukishirou
Summary: Spiralling into a darker place every day, Kurapika doesn't know how to stop. After leaving everything behind, Kurapika only has himself - the person he hates the most - for company. He's crafted himself a perfect routine to avoid the feelings that hunt him down, but he knows one day he might go too far as he is constantly teetering on the edge with no regard for himself. When the anguish is too much to bear, how can he ever get out of the mess he's made for himself? Will he be able to reconcile with the friends he abandoned?Trigger warning for substance abuse & depictions/descriptions of mental illness including self-harm and suicide
Relationships: Gon Freecs & Kurapika & Leorio Paladiknight & Killua Zoldyck, Kurapika & Leorio Paladiknight, Kurapika/Leorio Paladiknight
Comments: 27
Kudos: 61





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is set after Kurapika is seen grieving, not picking up his phone, about a year from that point. The premise was made prior to the dark continent arc being released, so imagine that never happened hehe.
> 
> I originally wrote this when I was 14/15 (in my AO3 as "alone" - upon re-reading it it was absolute shit that made me cringe but I loved the premise of it so I rewrote what I had and I'm developing it into a full story. Not sure how many chapters, but please leave a comment for what you'd like to see next from the story. I might surprise you ;)

He would seek out ways to destroy himself – to erase the pain of the past by focusing on the pain of the present. The trials and tribulations of which he had dedicated his life to were over, yet the pain felt just as fresh. Maybe worse. All he felt was emptiness and fear.

This wasn’t new. Abusing himself had always been a coping mechanism of Kurapika’s. In the past his friends had noticed him digging his chains into his wrists in moments of frustration, anxiety and apathy. He would push his friends away and isolate for months at a time. He would test his willpower with fasting, feeling high from the shame and malaise. He had stolen scalpels from a recent admission into hospital and had upgraded from digging his chains in. It would be easier to end it all, but Kurapika felt he deserved a long, painful life.

He hoped vengeance would have restored his faith and happiness. It would erase the void from deep inside him. He thought, at the time, he would see things differently. He’d be content, content with being content, and content with existence. He was not.

But, God, the high of hunting down your mortal enemies. The high of striking fear into the most dangerous, fearsome gang of bounties in Meteor City. And the high of torturing them into begging for mercy, knowing you are their superior and control every movement until their demise. Not one drug in the fucking world could match up to that high. The all-consuming rage that flowed like power through his veins. He would change – he would be powerful, formidable, God-like. In control. The emotions that would consume him – the imperative desire to restore dignity and pride he was terrorised into repressing, the need to kill. The buzz in his ears while he moved on autopilot. The haziness in his vision, blood-red, reliant on his instinct to satisfy his bloodlust. The kill switch being activated.

But that was over and he would never feel that way again.

Today, the only person he could hate was himself. He longed for another life. He would often day-dream that he was born in a simple town to a pair of average parents in the outside world who had had an affair in the past but had sought marriage counselling and all had been fixed. His birth had caused them to reconnect, remember why they loved each other. He had been raised in an average school, with average friends and upon graduation sought a major in Marketing. A monotonous life. And yet, he could’ve had a monotonous life if he hadn’t waited until it was too late. If he had sought therapy, maybe EMDR, maybe memory work. If he had been put into foster care, raised by a mother and father who would teach him to stand up to his bullies, and talk him out of being the bully. If he knew what love felt like; if he had healthy role models to look up to. If fury and hatred didn’t control every aspect of his waking – and sleeping – life. If he was happier – capable of a strong relationship with others. If he was devoured by drive and love, rather than guilt, anxiety, paranoia, self-loathing.

He had reported severe chronic pain to the doctor’s. Common amongst those with C-PTSD, his doctor said. “It’s clear to me with the pain you’re reporting you have fibromyalgia. I’m writing you up a prescription for 600mg gabapentin – try to avoid drinking too much with it. And please come back if you experience jaundice, bruising, seizures or thoughts of suicide.”

Gabapentin gave him purpose. Every evening he looked forward to 5pm – when he would take his dose. It let him sleep. No dreams, just blackness. The agony that had accumulated over the day would wash itself away with a river of calm and he would lay there, wherever he was, with a faint smile on his face as his eyes grew weary. And it took away his muscle pain.

Gabapentin gave him dread, too. Every morning he would wake up with a pit in his stomach. When he had to wait to take his dose, he would be having dark thoughts overtaking his mind. Sometimes it got so bad he would begin hearing the voices of his family screaming in torment as they were slaughtered. This increased his anticipation for 5pm – not just as his daily ritual to undo the mental distress and block out his deep loneliness, but as he felt that another hour past 5pm he could not make.

“These chronic migraines you’re experiencing are common amongst those with C-PTSD. I’m surprised the gabapentin didn’t help with that. In which case… I will lower your dose to 300mg gabapentin, and I’ll be writing you up a prescription for co-codamol, PRN. Try not to use it for more than 3 days in a row. And for the love of God, do not drink with both medications. If you take more of the dose than prescribed, please call emergency services. Try to take your doses at least 2 hours apart. You don’t have a family history of addiction, do you?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

Then the nefopam (which gave him hallucinations of his parents’ dead bodies, increasing the intensity of his migraines and panic attacks). Flunarizine. Flunarizine with propranolol. Rizatriptan. Higher dose of rizatriptan (which made his migraines worse than when nefopam made him see his parents’ dead bodies). Sumatriptan. Higher dose of sumatriptan. Nasal spray of sumatriptan. Subcutaneous injections of sumatriptan, with nefopam (which brought back the issue of his parents’ dead bodies). Then codeine.

It was a miracle cure. He felt calm when he took the codeine. He could sleep – and he wouldn’t have as many nightmares as he usually does – and his flashbacks would hardly phase him when he had taken a few. But then they stopped working. He had to take one, two, three more than his usual dose to feel any sense of relaxation. The panic attacks came back, and his migraines returned with a _vengeance._ At night time he was so restless he wanted to claw out his eyes and the darkness would take him so deeply he wouldn’t be able to act for it had him paralysed in its grip. He would take more of his gabapentin – triple his dose – just to be able to sleep. Those were the bad nights.

During this time he had a recently filled prescription and so he knew his doctor wouldn’t give him anything. But the need to fill the void that churned inside of him threatened to grow larger and larger if not fed. The yearning emptiness was so agonising at times he would find himself curled up in a ball in the darkness, screaming for it to stop. His eyes would glow red with emotional agony and the sharp light behind his eyes would bring the migraines on.

He found a contact in the streets for these times. He was given samples – truthfully he didn’t know what the fuck the difference was between low grade and high grade street drugs. To him they were just that – drugs. But he found that one drug in particular – cocaine – it stopped him from hating himself for just 30 minutes. And that was something that no opioid could do for him. They could numb him, relax his anxiety, let him forget his deep self-loathing by burying it underneath the warmth that embraced him. Sure, he felt okay.

But cocaine – he _liked_ himself. He was proud of what he had accomplished. He even felt good. He didn’t feel pain much, he felt little distress, no migraines, which gave him the revelation that they were stress induced. He almost was ready to go back into the world, to take the first step to go back to his old life. He would start planning his comeback, even making a point to write down his plan. A new business venture, a grand gesture for Leorio, the exact script for what he would say to Leorio when he saw him.

Then when he went to pour out another line to find the remnants of a white residue left on the baggie, it would all come crashing down on him that he was still the same piece of shit he was born to be. And he would look at the paper, see his incoherent ramblings and grandiose ideas that didn’t even make sense. The self-loathing wouldn’t eat at him when he crashed. It was visceral – burning him through his skin, into his very core. The restlessness, the itch to leave his body, the dysphoria - he could only get rid of the feeling of being trapped inside of his skin through his scalpel, and then scoring more.

Until he could get written up for his painkillers again. He had planned in his head that he would use his painkillers, and extra gabapentin with them if he was running low (which he knew was a dangerous game, and possibly only a matter of time), then when he ran out of them for the month he could be productive. Happy. He could like himself. And that way, he thought, this prevented a long-term addiction forming since he was alternating the drugs. And at least he didn’t drink.

“I’m writing you up a prescription for tramadol…” Then hydrocodone. Finally, oxycodone.

“Yes, doctor. The oxycodone is perfect, thank you. A little bit of nausea but I’ve never felt better, but it’s starting to wear off a bit quicker these days.” Like clockwork, every time he went back.

Sometimes the doctor over-prescribed him by accident – but he never took up the pharmacy on their mistakes. He had even at times crushed it to snort it – just like cocaine – despite the official warning to not alter the route of administration since this would mitigate the slow-release effects. And he would lay on his bed, roll over onto his side under his now-grey blanket and feel it hit. God, moments like those – finally not needing to be in control. The rush of relaxation, okayness, like he had Leorio’s arms wrapped around him again. His eyes would close, his breathing would slow and he had a warm feeling in his belly; it was love – or the closest to it he would ever truly feel.

But today he wouldn’t feel okay. He had over-used and wasn’t due for a prescription refill for about a week and a half. His payday was in four days, so he had no money for cocaine since he still owed his dealer for the 8-ball. All he had was darkness, and his thoughts. If only he had some _fucking oxycodone_ he could fantasize about reuniting with his friends, explaining everything to them in his dream world where everything would be okay. But he was anxious. He hadn’t been in contact with them for months. They had no idea if he were still alive, and he had no idea if they were still alive.

His friends. His two chosen little brothers, lying dead in a pool of their own blood, gutted, faces contorted. Leorio, the unreciprocated love of his life, throat slit in a dirty basement. Dead. Slaughtered. He should’ve reached out to them. He should’ve protected them. It was his fault, it was _my fault it was all my fault. Why am I so awful, why can’t I be normal and fucking protect the people I love instead of hurting them. I’ll never see them again. I push everyone away and it’s my own fault I’ll never be happy I never told them I love them oh God I’m fucking evil I’m a stain_

He felt his chest constricting as everything began to overwhelm him. Tears streamed out of his eyes and his throat tightened in panic. He could hear the silence screaming in his ears, heartbeat throbbing. His heart ached and thudded with a passion against his chest. Every breath felt sharp and painful and all he could think about was how much grief and pain and suffering he had caused his friends. An iron ball dropped in his stomach and he knew he was going to die and got an overwhelming feeling of nausea as he ran to his bathroom. He threw up violently, hands trembling with an aggressive grip on the toilet seat, a string of vomit hanging from his mouth.

As his stomach settled his eyes lost focus into the bowl. He felt numb, like a zombie, his mouth slightly agape. He thought of nothing for a moment, feeling like a passenger to his body. He saw bloodshed. Parents dead. Slaughtered like pigs. He came back to reality, his heart seizing in fear.

It wasn't a good day to be sober. He hated being sober.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Withdrawals. No money until his payday, nothing to stop the pain. But he always finds a way.

The tick of the clock. The rush of his blood. The twitch of his leg. A soreness, through his body. Every sensation – the contact between his skin and clothing, his feet with the air, his stomach acid with his throat – grated on him as though it were the last film of his skin left. His stomach churned with dread, a feeling of impending doom as though something terrible were to happen next. The tick of the clock. The rush of his blood. The twitch of his leg.

He found everything was much harsher on his eyes today, even with his black-out blinds blocking the world beyond his door. His vision was red with the intensity of his discomfort and as his discomfort increased he found the red would deepen. His heart pounded intensely, as though he were in a life-threatening situation, and each beat he could hear in his ears.

He was tremoring, shaking. Sweat beaded down his forehead and he felt a layer of grease on his face, and his blanket was far too thick and he felt he was overheating. But when he removed it, and the rest of his clothing due to the discomfort and heat, he felt cold, like he had stepped outside in a frozen wasteland with nothing to cover his dignity. He felt like screaming, but the screaming in his head itself was too loud, making him want to scream more, and to scream at himself to stop screaming. He wanted silence. He wanted numbness. He wanted the ringing in his ears to cease. He wanted his mind to stop racing. He felt his head start throbbing, as the ache increased in both sides of his head. His stomach threatened him to make his way to the bathroom. He wanted it to fucking stop. He gripped his hair through his fingers and cried out in agony.

The migraine, the withdrawals, the self-loathing – they all contributed to each other and he had nothing to stop it. He felt a blind rage course through his body at his helplessness, the fact he had done this to himself but couldn’t stop it.

Bile started building in his mouth. He began swallowing reflexively, knowing it would make it worse, but did not feel he could physically make his way out of bed or turn over.

A feeling of severity took him by the shoulders and hoisted him to the bathroom, barely reaching the toilet before he released the burning vomit that rushed to his mouth. He retched, throwing up more and more barely having a chance to breathe.

“God ff-fucking dammit – I want this shit to st-top!” he cried out. The sweat that beaded onto his forehead rolled its way down his face before dripping into the toilet bowl. His blood felt ice-cold, but his palms were burning, tremoring and were so wet they slipped around the toilet bowl where they came into contact with drops of his vomit.

When his vomiting subsided for the moment, he found himself a plant pot to throw up into. Every step was pain in his muscles and bones, like a test for how long he could keep himself up. He placed the plant pot down the side of his bed and collapsed onto it face-first. His eyes could hardly keep themselves open, but his mind was going too fast to sleep. He felt he was in purgatory. He fumbled for the strip of gabapentin on his nightstand, taking quadruple his regular amount in the hopes he would sleep. He rolled over on his side, putting himself in recovery position, knowing he would likely throw up in his sleep. Slowly, the agitation eased, although the unwellness did not, but soon he fell into a deep slumber that numbed away his discomfort.

* * *

He woke up to the same. The tick of the clock. The rush of his blood. The twitch of his leg. The sense that everything wrong in the world was happening to him right at that moment, and the moment after that, and the moment after that. And the smell of vomit on his bedsheets, as he had predicted.

He didn’t know how to cope with another day of withdrawals. Agitated, he fumbled for his phone. Kurapika’s trembling fingers scrolled through his recently called list. _This will make it better. This will make everything go away._

Dealer (cheaper) [27 recent calls] – Last: 2 days ago  
Dealer (only if desperate) [3 recent calls] – Last: 5 days ago  
Unknown number [2 missed calls] – Last: 9 days ago  
  
Swiping frantically, his finger landed on a contact under the name:  
Leorio [9 missed calls] – Last: 11 months ago  
He tensed and felt his heart palpitate, gulping down his misery. His stomach began feeling intensely unsettled. He braced himself over the plant pot again.  
  
Dealer (cheaper) – _Dialling…ring...ring...ri-_

“It’s Kur-r-apika – can you sp-pot me a gram?”  
“Man, you’re fuckin’ with me. You already owe me for an 8 ball. You sound a mess, my guy.”  
“Pl-please, I promise I’ll ge-get it to you tom-morrow.”  
“Alright but you fucking know it wont end well for you if you don’t.”

The line was cut and he held his cellphone to his chest, tremoring violently as he allowed himself to retch and throw up what he had been holding back during his phone call. His eyes laid shamefully opposite a bed of vomit in the plant pot. He realised that perhaps – just perhaps – he may have gone too far.

* * *

_SNIFFFFF_

Kurapika’s eyes rolled back in pleasure as the pain in his body numbed itself out and his self-loathing was drowned out by the high of arrogance. He dropped the 500 jenny note he was using as a straw atop his glass table, inspecting the scratches from the razor blade. He rubbed his nose vigorously and developed a sniff. He felt good again. Fucking good. His eyes as wide as the moon, he poured out another few white rocks with a laser focus, ready to chop with a blade. He felt the rush intensify as he began coming up – he felt like a fucking God.

The petroleum drip made its way down the back of his throat. It was times like this he wish he had a person, although he thrived on his own. He wanted someone to tell him their darkest secrets, so he could scoff with the superiority of having an even darker secret.

He looked through his closet, fingering his garments to figuring out what he could wear to the bar. He skimmed past his traditional wear, feeling a pang of shame, before picking out his suit and tie. He would look good and he would look powerful.

Opening the doors to the bar, he felt everyone’s eyes on him. And he wasn’t paranoid. He deserved it, he deserved all eyes on him. He wasn’t a regular at the bar, only on his coke benders (which he thought you could hardly call that since it only lasted three days tops) would he turn up and speak with strangers whose name he would never remember the following day.

He made his way to the bathroom for a top-up. But they knew, he knew they knew he was doing drugs because he didn’t drink and he made a point to never drink since alcohol is unpredictable and he would never remember the next day or what he did, and the feeling of being out-of-control was too much for him to bear with.

And with the rush, he started to feel an itch in his skin. He felt defensive, paranoid. Everyone knew. Everyone looked down on him.

As he sat down at the bar, he began twitching his leg, bouncing it up and down restlessly as he realised he didn’t want to be there, he didn’t want to be known and he certainly didn’t want others to speak with him. He moved his eyes back and forth, scanning his surroundings for danger. His heart pounded more. He couldn’t leave now – he just got there, and then they would _surely_ know his business if they didn’t before.

“May I order a lemonade, sir?” Kurapika asked the bartender. He paid in petty change. Waiting for his drink, he heard fragments of conversation all around him. He eavesdropped, sure others were talking about him. A cacophony of agitation influenced his leg to bounce more violently.

 _“…and he looks like a fucking weasel!”_ He froze up, anger coursing through his body. _  
“That’s it! Girl, you’re hilarious. So you think we should break up?”_ Not him.

_“…I just needed to tell you somewhere you wouldn’t make a scene.”_

_“She’s nice and all, but I had a better lay with…”_

_“I just want a new job – I don’t give a damn what it is, fuck this office and FUCK BRETT.”_

_"I'm starting to think I have a real problem with..."_ That was a message to him - that he should acknowledge his problem. He balled up his fists defensively. No, he didn't say what the problem was. Kurapika didn't have a problem, he had a coping mechanism and right now he felt great. His leg bounced.

 _“…cunt fights like a Kurta.”  
_Hearty laughter drowned out some of the conversation. He felt the blood rush through his body, his heart pounding intensely. Adrenaline coursed through his body as he listened in on the conversation.

 _“Careful, bossman, you can’t say shit about them kinds, everything is racist these days.”  
_Kurapika’s vision went an intense red. He clenched up his fists and bounced his leg violently, grinding his teeth together as his eyes widened up and he held his breath. His breath deepened.

 _“Can’t be racist if they’re all dead.”  
_He felt his surroundings be lost to a sea of black as his vision saw only the one in front of him. Silence.

And he lost control.

_A drop of blood. Blood-curdling screams. Blackness. Hands gripping his shoulders. A pounding motion._

_The sound of his own screaming. Blackness. The smashing of glass._

_Scarlet red. A pulsing in his hand. A shard of glass ripping the skin of his palm. Blackness._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tl;dr Kurapika goes on a bender, has a great time, hydrates himself through the night and practices harm reduction, feeling great the next day :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurapika wakes up from the night before and realises the mess he's made of himself. As he reflects on the toll his bad decisions are taking on him, he reaches out to an old friend.

Kurapika jolted up from his gabapentin-induced sleep, breathing heavily, the feeling of the world collapsing on his shoulders. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe at all. He couldn’t breathe and he was going to die. His nose was blocked, he couldn’t breathe through his mouth. He hyperventilated so intensely he had a coughing fit, retching in pain, crawling himself to the bathroom on all fours. He threw up into toilet bowl before sitting up against the wall, pulling his hair at the root and staring into space in terror. He rubbed his face up and down, scratching his arms of the horrific feeling of existing inside this prison as he sobbed in discomfort. Sitting up straight, he could breathe better and his panic attack reduced to a consistent buzz. His hand throbbed. It ached, it stung and he could barely move it. He held his arm protectively, gripping it tightly to try and stop the pain. When the pain attack in his hand subsided, he held his hand up and looked at it.

He noted the swelling, and it already had a blue tinge to it. His knuckles were scabbed over and his fingers wouldn’t bend. He turned his hand over to inspect his palm – a deep gash diagonally across. Scabbed over slightly, but some parts still beading blood from the motion of him flexing his fingers, pulling off scabs. And he remembered. The pulsing in his hand, the shard of glass, the pounding.

He remembered the rage. His own screaming, voice breaking as he attacked the man. Strangers, struggling relentlessly to rip him off of the man.

And a throbbing in his head. He got up from the tiled floor to look in the bathroom mirror, slightly too high up for Kurapika. He stood on his tip toes. He noted a cut on his cheek, and a swelling on the other side. _He must’ve fought back,_ although he did not recall. He noted he was still wearing his shirt from last night and began to unbutton it – it needed washing, as it smelled of stimulant-induced sweating and had bloodstains on it. He also noted the blood on his right nostril, washing his face with cold water. He was troubled by the incohesive memories of the night before. He didn’t feel they were in order, just flashes of screaming. Bloodshed. The familiar feeling with the spiders, the instinct to kill. He didn't even remember what the man looked like, besides that he was bald and bulky.

And the glass… what happened with the glass? Blood-curdling screams. Blood. A thud. Black.

He didn’t know. He had blacked out. But he could theorise from the evidence he was presented with: the cut on his hand he knew was from a shard of glass, he perhaps smashed a glass – either over a table, or more likely, over the man’s head. He definitely picked up the shard of glass, and gripped it tightly. But to hurt the man? Or himself? Or somebody else? He removed his already unbuttoned shirt and inspected his arms. Nothing new.

And he remembered the blind rage. The bloodlust. The loss of control.

He had held it to the man’s neck. He didn’t know if he went through with it or not. He didn’t want to know. He was afraid of what he was capable of in that state, and remembered why he feared losing control. Why he feared talking to strangers, leaving his house.

The pounding in his head returned all at once, a pressure squeezing so tightly he was paralysed by the intense pain. He laid on the cold floor for a while, pressing his head against the cool tiles until they warmed up from the heat radiating off his forehead. He got himself a glass of water, chugged it (which intensified the pressure in his head for a moment) and got himself another glass of water. He would be able to ride this one out – this migraine in particular was coming on in waves, with 5 minutes of agony followed by 10 minutes of a dull throbbing pain. Acetaminophen and some over-the-counter Benadryl would do the job of getting rid of his coke hangover, and hopefully subside the migraine even marginally.

 _Ring...ring...ring_. Startled, Kurapika picked up his phone, hoping he wasn't due in for a shift today. Realising who it was, he remembered he owed money. He realised he had to slow his habit down, as it was getting expensive very quickly. His work only brought him earnings of around 130,000 jenny a month – 50,000 for rent. 6,000 for prescriptions. 5,000 for food.

“Hello, it’s Kurapika speaking.” He spoke with a nasally voice through his blocked nose.

“You got my jenny?”

“35,000 jenny. For the 8-ball and the gram."

"40,000 jenny. I gave you a gram and a half."

 _Fuck. I really have to slow down._ "And… have you got anything else I might enjoy, that is perhaps more affordable?” He felt a sneeze coming on and so muted himself courteously before he sneezed.

“…I got you. Habits form quick and rip through your savings, huh? I know what you might like. 1500 per pill.” Which would leave him with… 27,500 jenny until his next payday. Enough for an 8-ball.

“What is it? Shit – one second.” He felt his nose dripping and tasted iron on his tongue. He found himself some tissue and tipped his head forward, squeezing his nose to stop the bleeding while his dealer spoke on the other line.

“…and half should be good. Careful my guy.”

“Ok. I’ll pick up two. Regular bank account transfer?”

“Yeah – remember to be unsuspicious with the reference. Be there in 30.”

 _The word is inconspicuous,_ he thought to himself as the line cut. _Uneducated imbecile._ He pulled the tissue away from his nose and inspected the blood loss. The bright red colour invoked dread. He threw it away without looking too closely and decided to shower away the blocked sinuses, blood and headache while he waited for his dealer to drop by.

He remembered the thud of the night before and was engulfed by vertigo. _I fell…? Or I was tackled? I don’t think he fought against me… Fuck. There’s a night I’ll never get back._

* * *

Kurapika inspected the pills he had bought in his recent illicit transaction. They were pale blue, chalky, ever so slightly crumbling in his hands and were imprinted with a smiley face. He turned them upside down, a novelty to match his mood. He noticed his translucent hand contrasted against the darkness, wounded knuckles sticking out and skin hanging loose over his bones. He fixated on it for a while.

 _When did I lose so much weight? I need to remember to go grocery shopping this week…_

The risk didn’t phase him. Part of him always hoped it would be the last time, and at least he would reach the other side having felt something other than fear in his last moments. A smaller part of him, swallowed by his self-destruction and recklessness, felt fear for the unknown and its possible repercussions. And he gulped it down with the two bitter pills and a glass of water.

He knew nothing about this drug. He was tuned out while his dealer spoke. He didn’t know how long it would take to kick in, nor how he would feel, nor how much he had taken, nor if it would react with his daily dose of gabapentin. He didn't even know what it was called. Anxiously, he began looking for things to do. He went into his kitchen and began throwing the expired food from the fridge. He played with the pendulum on the countertop, which he used to use as an oven timer to keep his brain sharp. He stared at it for a while, watching it swing back and forth. He went into his lounge and inspected his bookshelf that was gathering dust. He pulled out books on topics that used to interest him, hoping to keep him occupied as he waited for the effects of this mystery substance. He pulled out a Nen study book from when he was getting started out, a book on first aid, and some classics. Maybe he would start reading again.

He pulled out the novel Les Liaisons Dangereuses, one of his all-time favourites he never tired of. He used to read it monthly, like clockwork. He would get through it in a few days, then give himself the rest of the month to reset and fill his mind with other literature. Yet he peculiarly found himself rereading the first page over and over, only able to read the first line until it began repeating itself in his mind like a chant.

_You will see, my dear, that I have kept my word and that bonnets and pom-poms do not take up all my time – there will always be some left over for you._

Time had passed and he felt an anxious dubiousness. _Was I given a fake? I’ve been ripped off. I can’t afford this habit._ As he questioned the credibility of his dealer, he felt his mind going to fearful places, heart racing more than usual as his palms developed a sheen. _I think I’m going to die. What if this is the last time? What if I die in terror? This will all have been for nothing – I’ll die for nothing like my heritage. That’s the Kurta fate. What kind of Kurta has no regard for themselves? I’m going to die. I’m going to die a failure and a disappointment._

In that moment, Kurapika felt a rising sensation in his chest, as though he were winded by a punch and gathering back his breath. He felt possessed to look in the mirror, which he hadn’t done in months for he was afraid of how he would hold himself back from the person he loathed the deepest. Looking back at him he saw a ghostly pale boy, gaunt in the cheekbones, hair knotted and stringy, but with his eyes as wide as he’d ever opened them. A mesmerising scarlet emanating from them, which he couldn’t focus on as his eyes vibrated from side-to-side.

He could barely focus. **Terror. Doom. Misery.** He had dread in the pit of his stomach, and felt he was searching for something he had lost although he couldn’t quite remember if he had lost anything at all. **Torment. Pressure. Anxiety.** He felt himself pacing back and forth on a mission to accomplish he didn’t know what, but equally felt consumed by fear that moved so quickly he couldn’t grasp on to any single thought to figure out what he was afraid of. Disappointing Leorio, Killua Gon. _If Leorio could see me right now…_ **Shame. Anguish. Self-hate.** Everything was a brilliant red. He chewed his lip, jaw moving back and forth instinctively as he bit the skin off of his cheek. **Danger. Fear. Massacre** – _no Pika you’re fine no one is going to hurt you here you’re high is all and your chest is pounding but no one is here to hurt you, no one is here to hurt you, no one is here to hurt you._ Suddenly, the most euphoric acceptance the boy had ever felt – perhaps even God-given – overcame him, gripping him by the arms and forcing him to sit and close his eyes. He had grounded himself from a flashback instinctively. He had protected himself. He had _taken care of himself._

Followed by an earth-shattering loneliness, a loneliness so profound he felt lost in himself, as though he were a vast ocean wrecking his own ship. He needed a person. He had deprived himself the pleasure of a person for so long. _When did I stop taking care of myself?_ He felt a loss of identity – he didn’t know who he was anymore outside of the drugs. He didn’t like any aspect of himself; anything he used to respect in his character now put a bitterness in his mouth. _What do I even… do when I’m not high? Do I really spend all my time high or in withdrawals? I work… I go to work… What am I doing with my life? I need a person. Leorio…_

_I love him. I have never felt a purer love than for Leorio. I need to talk to him. He’ll understand. He’ll pick up._

Kurapika returned to his recently called list, swiping months down as he had accidentally during his withdrawals. His thumb hovered over Leorio’s name. His mind dissected his name, sounding it out loud, rehearsing the melody of it rolling off his tongue. Like home.

 **Dialling…** _ring…ring…ring…The person you have called is currently unavailable. Please leave a message after the BEEP._

Feeling a pang of agoraphobic terror, he pressed end. He felt enveloped by his pitifulness. Nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. Just stuck with himself. _Fuck. What if he changed his number and I'll never speak to him again?_

**Dialling…** _The person you have called is currently unavailable. Please leave a message after the BEEP._

The rejection stung. He had ended the call on him. But he needed Leorio, even if he looked stupid.  
 _BEEP._

“Hello Leorio… it’s Kurap-pika… I'd like you to come s-see me,” he stuttered through his chattering jaw. “I’ve missed you… uhm… please c-call me back.” He paused for a moment. “I need you here.”  
  
A few moments passed by in contemplative silence – although it had really been a quarter of an hour, though Kurapika had lost his grip on time and felt it had been mere seconds. _Maybe I’ll just call one more time._

 **Dialling…** _ring…ring…ring…ring…_ The sound of a phone being picked up. Silence behind the line.

“Leorio? Is that you?”

“Kurapika. I really don’t want to fuckin’ talk to you after what you’ve done.”

“I get it, Leorio. I r-really do. I miss you.” The call was cut. Kurapika had heard Leorio’s voice – harsh, but it melted him like nobody else could ever do. He felt an intense pain in his chest and teared up as love coursed through his body, his veins like an injectable. Then the pain dawned on him – Leorio hated him. His heart wrenched but he felt acceptance, forgiveness, and the understanding that it was his own actions. But he needed him.

 **Dialling…** _ring…rin_ –

“Kurapika, whatever the hell you have to say to me, you have one minute. You have one damn minute.”

“Leorio… okay, okay, I miss you and- and…” Kurapika inhaled and exhaled, letting go of his pride. The block that had kept him spiralling for fear of reaching out was lifted. “I’m in a dark place right now. I’m making bad decisions. I can’t be by myself and every day gets harder. I've lost control and every day is too much, I don't remember the last time I felt okay - truly okay, with no repercussions. I think I deserve this – well, I do. I do deserve this but I think that I deserved it all along. I’m not okay, Leorio. I don’t know what I’m doing with myself and I just… I really, really fucking need you. Please.”

The silence behind the line was deafening.

“I’m sorry.”

“Fuck, Pika. You abandoned us. What do you _want_ me to do, damn it?”

“I know. I’m sorry. I need you. I don’t know how much longer I can do this by myself.”

“… Fine, send me your address. I don't live too far from your city. I'll try to be there in 30 minutes. Just hold yourself together until then, you idiot.”

A smile grew on Kurapika’s face. Small, at first, barely noticeable. It expanded until his cheeks hurt. _Leorio._ His field of vision glowed a deeper scarlet than before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The drug of choice is: disco biscuits  
> I graciously left out the churning of the bowels that occurs with it :)


	4. Chapter 4

That knock – it filled Kurapika with a range of emotions. Paranoia – perhaps it was one of the remaining members of the Troupe who had found him, although it was probably just Leorio but how could he know for sure? Anxiety – he hadn’t heard his door be knocked on since he had moved in here. Guilt – for Leorio was going to see him in a state he wasn’t entirely honest about. Shame – as he hadn’t cleaned up prior to his arrival like a good host should, nor for himself in a month. And some good emotions, though he struggled to identify what it was but they all fizzed up inside Kurapika who could feel his stomach churning, nauseating him.

The knock became incessant, and Kurapika realised that either he was about to be seriously hurt or he was about to drive away the man he cared the most about for good. Cautiously, Kurapika unlocked the door. He didn’t want to stare Leorio face-to-face. He sat on the floor, cuddling his knees, calling for Leorio to come in. He obliged.

Leorio noted that the house was tidy, as he would expect from Kurapika, but it had a dominant scent of stale vomit, cigarettes and sweat. It was cold, as though all the windows were open, but perhaps this also stemmed from the lack of life he saw in Kurapika. The lights were off and it was dark, lit only by a hint of sunlight and the red of his small friend’s eyes. He found his nose itching, as though a fine layer of dust were coating the air, and in some places the floor was sticky.

“Your eyes are… really red, Pika. You insanely horny or something? Sheesh, turn on a light,” demanded Leorio before reaching to turn on the light himself.  
As the light came on, Leorio saw Kurapika’s appearance. He was unrecognizable. He had deep bags under his eyes and thinning hair. His cheeks were hollowed out as though he were deeply unwell. And he noted his jaw grinding back and forth, and his pupils as wide as saucers.

“Pika, your eyes are… Oh fucking god damn it, Kurapika. You fucking idiot. When you said you were making bad decisions I thought you meant you had quit your job or you made friends with the wrong people. I never thought you would – you never struck me as a…”

“Druggie? You never thought someone as responsible as me would stoop that low? Because I’m meant to be the one who keeps it all together?”

“Not that you’re a druggie but you just never… I never thought – I didn’t expect that you… What happened to you?”

“Leorio… I’ve taken 2 pills. Please just hold me. Please. Even if you leave afterwards, I just need you to hold me and I need us to not talk about what the fuck went wrong with me right now because I have no pride left to swallow and I’m not used to asking for help and mostly I cant bear to think about all the _shit_ , there’s so much _shit_ – “ Leorio grabbed him by the shoulders.

“Hey, hey. You know I’m furious with you. I don’t even know if I can forgive you, now or ever.” Leorio rubbed his temples. “But we can just sit here until you’re ready to talk. We can just sit here, Pika.”

The nickname filled Kurapika with warmth. He wrapped his arms around Leorio, tucked underneath his arms. He squeezed with desperation and the fear of being alone again. He rested his head on Leorio’s warm chest and his fears were washed away by a feeling of belonging. Better than any drug. Just silence and their heartbeats connecting, taking away his loneliness, filling the emptiness inside of him.

“You’re still a real idiot, though.”

“I’d like us to go for a walk.”

“I’ll get you a glass of water first.”

* * *

The sun was setting, emanating rich orange and hot pink hues onto the ground. Kurapika found himself mesmerised as he walked in silence with his doctor friend. The sunlight cast him with lukewarmth, goosebumps appearing on his skin. Everything was about right now. It wasn’t about the past, it wasn’t about destroying himself because he deserved it. It was about living despite the past, it was about being happy despite not deserving it. He could’ve lived in that moment forever. The world didn’t feel grey anymore. Kurapika brushed his hand against Leorio’s. Leorio recoiled timidly, but brushed his hand against Kurapika’s in a moment of courage, and they interlocked fingers.

_I want to be here forever._

They found a patch of grass to sit on, shaded by a particularly large willow tree that kept them safe from danger as the effects of the pills Kurapika had taken started to wear off.   
“Leorio. I don’t know what to say to you. I feel that I’ve destroyed forever. The rest of my life isn’t worth living.”

“Pika… you got time to make up for this. You’re still a baby.”

“I’m only 2 years younger than you – you’re also a baby.”

“Well I’m older, taller and wiser than you,” Leorio challenged.

“You may be studying to be a doctor but that doesn’t make you wise.” They locked eyes, and Kurapika developed a mischievous glint in his eyes. “To be wise you have to have humility.”

Leorio chuckled. “That’s my Pika.” Kurapika’s heart skipped a beat. _My Pika._ He paused. “And I _am_ a doctor now, thank you.”

Kurapika’s eyes lit up with pride. “Leorio – that’s amazing.” His heart dropped. “Is that how long I’ve been away? That you’ve finished medical school?”

Leorio winced and looked away. “Why did you leave?”

Kurapika felt a mental block. He always struggled to talk about his feelings – in fact, he hadn’t since living by himself. Who to? His colleagues at his 4 day a week job? They thought his name was Kua because he distrusted people so much that if they knew his real name, he feared they may try to harm him. The blonde valued Leorio more than his pride, although sometimes, he acknowledged, it hadn’t seemed that way. He wanted to work past the block, the mental wall preventing him from voicing how he felt. He took a deep breath. _The drugs will make this easier. He deserves to know._

“I was grieving. And I started having nightmares. Memories of things I never knew had happened to me. I always felt I was back there. I took it out on myself.” Kurapika pulled his sleeves over his hand in shame. “And the pain – I’ve always had pains, you know that, but it got worse – I could hardly get out of bed, and I was being hit with migraines. I was given medicine. For my fibromyalgia.”

“What did they give you?”

“Gabapentin. And a whole range of stuff that didn’t work until they put me on codeine. And now, oxycodone.”

“Opioids, then? Fuck, Kurapika.”

“They take away the pain. No panic attacks, no crushing guilt – just numbness and warmth.”

“So why the pills?”

“I developed a tolerance. That’s what happens when you abuse your medicine. I would run out of my prescription quickly – and my doctor is sleazy, but not sleazy enough to let me refill after 2 weeks with a month’s worth PRN prescription. I got addicted to feeling okay. Not the opioids.” He took a moment to get his breath back, finding it difficult to talk about himself like this. He had never spoken about his pain before. Not to a friend. “I have a dealer, you see – I found him because of my… my P…PTSD. He sold me Xanax, before I was even diagnosed with fibro. I didn’t really like it, but it did the job. He offers me to try new products and I tried some cocaine. And it’s getting really bad. I like myself when I’m on cocaine. I really like myself, and I’ve never felt that way about me before. And I can’t afford the habit. And I think I – I think I may have done something terrible last night, but I can’t know for sure, and I’m too afraid to find out. And I wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about it if I didn’t get something else. So I got these pills. No idea what’s in them. They were most cost effective.”

Leorio wouldn’t look at him. Not out of anger nor resentment, but out of pride. He was a proud man and didn’t want to seem weak in front of his wasting friend. Kurapika could see his eyes were glassy, flickering in the dying sunlight. He withheld his sniffing, but not well enough that Kurapika had no idea.

“I shouldn’t have killed them. At first the high was incredible. And they deserved it, they deserved every miserable second of their deaths.” He balled up his fists and gritted his teeth. “But now there is _nothing_ left. I have nothing left for me. I’m a shell of a person, the person I am is stuck in the past. I’ve _ruined myself_ , Leorio. I’ve fucking ruined myself," he wailed, breaking into tears. He hit himself in the head with his fist for being so _stupid and weak in front of him._

“Pika…” Leorio’s hand grabbed the younger boy’s, restraining it from causing further damage. “I don’t like seeing you hurt yourself.”

“It’s what I’ve always done and what I’ve always known.”

“I know. I always noticed you digging your chains into your wrists when you were anxious. You had a tell. You would be irritable, short, give vague answers – well, vaguer than usual. And I would look down and see you digging them into your skin. I never really got it.”

Kurapika grew a small smile. He inspected at his nails – long, untrimmed but brittle from the biting. A yellow tinge to them. “I would dig my nails in too. I don’t think you noticed that. It was early into us getting to know each other.”

Leorio averted his gaze. “Why didn’t you answer when I called?”

“I was guilt-ridden. I was entrenched in anxiety, it was like this itching under my skin – this feeling like I was trapped. Everything was overwhelming, every sound made my heart pound in my chest, like sandpaper on my raw emotional skin. There were a few weeks where my eyes were red almost all day, every day. And a few weeks after, when you called again, I was grieving. I was grieving my family. I was holding a funeral and I set myself weeks aside to just exist, to feel empty. And then the last time, the time you called me a few months later and left me that voicemail, the one where you were begging for me to return your calls to know I was alive. It was bad. I felt so far away from myself, so inhuman. But so powerful to know what I had done. Who I had massacred. I was disgusted by myself, I was disgusted that I went against everything my family stood for. I was so disgusted by my pride I didn’t deserve your time. I was repulsed by the feeling fuelled by my bloodlust – that it was so addictive I wanted more, and felt I could do anything, get away with anything. I was pathetic. I felt so pathetic. I didn’t want you to see what I’d become.” His voice became choked up, as though his throat were being squeezed from the inside.

Leorio hid the hurt in his eyes. “You’re not pathetic. But I need you to know that I’m still so… god I’m so fucking angry with you still. I can hardly look at you.” He let out a deep sigh. “But I’m here now.” As if despite his anger, Leorio still loved him.

The silence was heavy for the moment it lingered before being broken by a heavier statement.

“Kurapika, you’re a mess.”

His words stung. Leorio’s compassion stung. He felt pitiful, stripped of his pride and independence. Vulnerable, emotionally naked. He found himself staring into space, not hearing the words Leorio was speaking at him. Kurapika felt unreal – in a daze, a dream, a nightmare he might wake up from in tears.

“What do you say?”

“Hm?” Kurapika’s eyes came back into focus as he brushed his hands along the cool grass.

“Come stay with me. I’ll feed you – you look really malnourished. You haven’t been taking care of yourself. You just have to promise you’ll come clean to your doctor and get sober. Money’s not an issue.”

“What about my pain?”

“You started getting migraines when you left, right? And you haven’t mentioned any therapy, meds for your mental health or whatever?”

“I don’t know, Leorio – it’s… it’s a lot to ask. It’s all I have…”

Leorio placed his hands under Kurapika’s chin, turning his head to lock eyes with each other. He noticed his bags, the lacklustre existence in his eyes. His complexion was pale with a tinge of yellow.

“You have me, Pika. I can’t forgive you yet, but you’re still my friend and I can’t let you waste away like this. It’s difficult to see you losing yourself.”

They stared into each other’s eyes, sharing a moment of connection where they simultaneously remembered what they love most about each other. They both thought about all the time they had missed away from each other, all their petty flirtatiousness in the form of competitivity and insults. The clash of their personalities – Leorio’s hot-headed irresponsibility, and Kurapika playing the collected caretaker. Everything was different now. This was the most vulnerable they had ever been with each other, Kurapika realised.

And he leaned forward, closing his eyes, letting his lips touch Leorio’s. They locked lips for a moment, sharing a kiss that jolted electricity through them both, sending a tingle down their spines as they became overwhelmed with emotions they had cut themselves off from since their separation. They both pulled away, Leorio avoiding eye contact in embarrassment and Kurapika with a red tinge to his cheeks. Their gazes softened.

“Leorio… thank you.” Kurapika felt that finally, perhaps there was really a light at the end of the tunnel. He rested his head on Leorio’s shoulder, relieved to have shared an intimate moment of connection with him after all these years. This was the man who would love him unconditionally.

“And by the way, you can definitely tell you’re on drugs because that’s gotta be the most you’ve ever spoken in one go in what, your whole life?” Kurapika giggled at this, feeling lighter inside for having spoken. “Hey, come on Pika. Let’s go. It’s getting dark.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leorio takes in Kurapika in a bid to get him better. Kurapika is struggling with the abrupt cessation of all his coping mechanisms; as one might put it, he was going "cold-turkey." But all was not so bad.

The come-down was not a gentle one. Leorio was working that day, as the busy schedule of a doctor often involves. And in the morning he had felt a glowing feeling, waking up with his arms wrapped around Leorio (he was shocked to find out Leorio was the little spoon), feeling everything was right in the world. For the first night in months, he didn’t thrash in his sleep from nightmares – or at least if he did, Leorio was too concerned about his other issues to bring it up.

But as soon as Leorio walked out that door, leaving Kurapika with his fried eggs on toast with avocado, a wave of hopelessness crashed over him. He was alone. He had nothing to fill the pain with, and everything felt black. He had no appetite, pushing the eggs around on his plate before deciding to scrape them away into the food bin before washing up. He felt fatigued, with an anxious energy that made him feel restless but unable to move.

He forced himself up by wiggling his toes and fingers and trying to bring the energy into his legs. And he cleaned. Leorio’s home was less messy than his own, but he felt a responsibility for Leorio that he lacked for himself – and he was disgusted by the dirty laundry all over the floor and the unwashed dishes.

He would start with the kitchen, washing up the dishes, drying them away, reorganising the shelves and organising the food pantry so there was a system in place. He cleaned out the microwave and started cleaning the oven. He made his way into the fridge, the foul smell of fresh food gone bad wrinkling his nose – he threw away all the expired items. Finally, he sprayed down the sides.

He took a break to make himself a coffee, thinking how much easier and more rewarding this would be under the influence of coke. But he had none. He cleaned the mug and put it away, leaving no evidence behind.

Then, the bathrooms. He bleached the toilets, took washing out of the laundry basket and put on one wash (there was enough dirty laundry for about 2 more – you would expect a doctor to have more regard for himself, he thought). He cleaned out the bathtub and showerhead, getting rid of any hairs in the drain. He polished the sink, replaced the toilet roll and organised the toiletries cupboard. He also took a moment to brush his teeth, as he realised it was 2pm, he had been awake since 5am due to his insomnia and had yet to brush them.

Then the bedroom. He picked up the dirty laundry from the floor, organised the study desk in Leorio’s room by putting his paperwork away neatly. Leorio had an extensive bookshelf of medical books, as well as some recommendations from Kurapika himself from over the years that he had donated to Leorio but doubted he had read. They had their own designated section in the shelf – the boy’s heart warmed to see this. Kurapika organised these by colour and size order. He picked up the rubbish from the floor, vacuuming the carpet. He mopped the hallways. Finally, he hung up Leorio’s coats that had been hanging around on the sofa like a guest, and put his shoes inside a cupboard. He beamed with pride. Then he realised he still hadn’t showered since before moving in.

Kurapika undressed himself. He turned on the shower, taking the heat down to freezing before immersing himself in the icy stream. He was hoping to get some kind of high while also feeling sufficiently punished for being bad. He spent some time sitting on the shower floor, holding his knees as he thought about where it all went wrong and whether or not any of this could have been prevented, or if he was destined to be this way.

He loved to push himself to his limits – as a form of self-abuse, of course. He liked to see how long he could go without food before collapsing, which had led to fainting episodes in the past. He missed the days when his form of getting high was pushing a scalpel deep enough into his skin for him to feel he may have caused real damage, stitching himself back up when the bleeding had subsided. It was a contradiction, and often confused his friends in the past. How he was so responsible, so adamant to be in control, and simultaneously so reckless with no concern for himself. He stared at his bare arm, observing the goosebumps and the healed incisions on his skin. When the flashbacks started, Kurapika turned off the shower. It stopped them for a while – he made a mental note of this.

When Leorio returned, Kurapika felt guilt. He had an inferiority complex, feeling too worthless to be around Leorio and as though he was a burden on everyone he loved. But Leorio simply grinned at him, asked him how his day was and commented that he did a good job cleaning, but probably fucked up his personal system of organisation that he insisted was intentional and very much organisedly disorganised. His fears floated away. Leorio didn’t think Kurapika was below him – he saw him as an equal, someone deserving of love and kindness. Leorio asked him if he had eaten, and berated him for throwing away the breakfast he had lovingly made, but noticed he had showered and was clearly sober.

“I’m proud of you, Pika. We’re taking it one day at a time. You really got to get yourself on some antidepressants, though.”

* * *

“So the PTSD is getting the best of ya, eh buddy? We’ll start you on 10mg of Paroxetine – otherwise known as Seroxat. Come back if it makes you wanna die, but generally most people brave it out, and keep in mind I’m a busy guy.”

“Thank you, doctor. I have been abusing my painkillers. I need you to take me off of them.”

“I see… Yeah, I would too, what with your horrible trauma and all. I’ll just put that on the system, that painkillers are a no-go for you from now on then. So what shall we do for your pain, then? What worked in the past?”

“The propranolol was useful, and it helped with my anxiety attacks, too.”

“Right, so let’s say a triptan and propranolol. You can also take propranolol when you feel an anxiety attack coming on. Shall we try sumatriptan again, then? I’ll give you the subcutaneous injection form and the nasal spray. And we’ll keep you on the gabapentin, and increase the dose to 600mg – no issues with that right?”

Kurapika averted his gaze in shame. He knew there were other things that would help with the pain. He could go without it; he needed to be upfront and honest. For him. For Leorio. Sobriety. Sobriety. Sobriety.

“No… no issues with that, doctor.”

* * *

The first few days on his new medication, Kurapika felt no different. He knew these things took time, and he was coming out of his rock bottom, although still within an arm’s length of it. His cravings were intense, crippling at times. When Leorio was working and he was alone, he would find a dark corner to sit in and just cry and scream and thrash until he couldn’t feel anymore. And even though just days ago Leorio had seen him at his lowest point, he couldn’t bear the thought of being seen so weak and vulnerable. That’s not who he was. And he still had his gabapentin, which perhaps was the glue that kept him from shattering into tiny pieces, never to be put back together.

So he still had his 5pm dose of gabapentin to look forward to. Although he had to be timely with that, more so than usual, since Leorio had a tendency to come home between 5:20 – 5:30 on weekdays. On weekends, he would go to the bathroom and lock the door, washing it down with water from the tap. And that was okay, since he was prescribed that for his pain.

The sumatriptan injections were his favourite – besides the associated migraine – because he enjoyed the sharp prick and the feeling of liquid entering his body. They were effective with the propranolol, and came with far less withdrawals since there was no abuse potential. And the propranolol would help him get to sleep (alongside the gabapentin of course). On those days that it didn’t work, Leorio would sit by his side, turn down the lights, give Kurapika a disposable puking bowl and bring him fresh cold compresses for his head. Wordlessly, Kurapika would rest his head on Leorio’s lap while he worked from home, and if Kurapika didn’t protest, Leorio would play with his blonde locks. And somehow, it made the worst days something to look forward to.

With nothing to put up his nose, Kurapika quickly fell back into his old comfort. He wasn’t spoiled for choice with genres, but he had all the options in the world for anatomical books; even worse, dog-eared anatomical books. But he wasn’t fussy. _Knowledge is knowledge_ , he had always thought. The bookworm would give anything a chance. If it bored him, he would keep reading anyway. Worst case scenario, he would learn something new. Best case scenario, a masterpiece such as Frankenstein (which he would always defend as a work of art, and _yes_ it was slow-paced but it made the outcome all the more satisfying, and the imagery was stunning and the political commentary was complex and ahead of its time and the _real monster_ was Victor Frankenstein all along.) that left him speechless afterwards, with nothing to do but stare at the walls to relive the journey in his head.

He’d been increasing his appetite too. Leorio would make him smoothies for breakfast and varied dinners with expensive ingredients (since, as a doctor, he was making money like he’d always dreamed but now didn’t know what to do with it besides buy fancy foods like caviar) and when he didn’t eat it, Leorio would lecture him on the importance of nutrition and the long-term effects of poor eating habits. Kurapika would tease him for caring so much and Leorio would get flustered when he realised he was being soft. This would always make Kurapika laugh. A shy, reserved laugh, but nonetheless a shared moment of happiness between them.

At night, they shared the bed. They never discussed the kiss they shared as Leorio was too awkward and Kurapika was too reserved to talk about what it _meant_ but they both knew what it meant. It was an unspoken agreement between the both of them that this was, indeed, a thing. There was a _them_.

They would take turns being the little spoon. Kurapika was generally the big spoon but would often wake up in the night thrashing and screaming, to which Leorio would hold him as he cried, stroking his hair until he fell back asleep. The morning after those nights, he would always wake up with an arm wrapped over his waist, sometimes with a leg shielding him from harm’s way. He’d wake up breathless. The same petulant man who prided himself on his abrasiveness, protecting _him._

And when he woke up locked in a soft embrace, the gentle rising and falling of warm air on his neck, it was as though no bad thing had ever crossed his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't get too comfortable. End here if you want to live in your daydreams :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurapika's medication starts to show its side-effects and he struggles to cope with them. He also struggles to open up to Leorio about what is happening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major trigger warning for emetophobia, descriptions of self-harm, graphic descriptions of suicidal ideation and suicide attempts.  
> I've included a short summary at the bottom of the chapter if you find the above triggering, although do be cautious because it contains brief mentions of the above <3

Seroxat was hellish. Reminiscent of training for a marathon and of those first few Nen battles when just starting out, it had been some weeks and so far the only noticeable changes were:  
1\. He napped a _lot_. Although at night time, he hardly slept at all. His circadian rhythm had inverted itself, which would prove challenging when his partner was asleep and he was re-experiencing his past.

2\. His pupils were huge. ALL the time. When it started, Leorio asked him if he’d relapsed. After a few days, Leorio told him he needed to be up front with him if he was going to get better. After about a week, Leorio apologised to him out of the blue. Kurapika thought this was peculiar – Leorio was not an apologetic man. As it turns out, Leorio had realised this was a medication side-effect.

3\. His flashbacks were more frequent, and the physical effects lasted significantly longer. He once dropped a glass, and the sudden noise had sent a surge of scarlet-coloured fury through his eyes, which resulted in him rocking back and forth on the kitchen tiles. He shook and shook and shook, no matter how many blankets Leorio gave him and no matter how many cups of tea he drank. Traumatic memories replayed themselves as a feedback loop – Leorio tried to ground him through it, but he couldn’t keep his mind from going back there.

4\. He had a bittersweet hope. He was certainly experiencing more self-loathing and a lot of nothing, but he felt a glimpse of hope and he held on to it as though it were a pair of Kurta eyes. He decided to keep with it. He knew it would get better.

He felt empty. It felt as though there was little left inside of him, just blood and tissue and organs moving through the motions of a dreary life with days that blended into one. This made his cravings worse, primarily attributed to the urgent nothingness that begged him to do something, anything, to make him whole. In an attempt to ignore the voice of self-destruction, Kurapika would try to fill himself with reading, but he found his vision would go hazy when he tried to read, emptily scanning the page before he would let out a sigh of exasperation and put the book down.

Kurapika picked up cooking; it would take his mind away for a little while with the ritualistic movements of chopping, frying, seasoning. Leorio would tell him it was sensational (as it was a Kurta home recipe, of course) but Kurapika would always feel it tasted bland. His salt intake started to increase drastically.

And the cooking helped, until he found himself gazing at the knives. He would reminisce on the blunting scalpel he’d left in his now-abandoned flat, determined to drop the habit and _just be happier._

He would desperately fill his thoughts with other things, counting each chop and slice and then counting each individual piece, and once more just to be sure. A lot of food was either overcooked, burnt or inedible.

One night, the compulsion was too heavy to bear. The kitchen equipment was too blunt to do much harm (naturally, since Leorio would rather splurge on good quality suits and novelty mugs) and hardly drew a drop of blood – yet the shame overtook him just as heavy as the scalpel. Still, it gave him a way to feel again and he felt that was his God-given right.

A doctor for a boyfriend had its benefits, right? Leorio had a bag filled with medical equipment for home-visits. Kurapika would carefully remove it in the dead of night, sterilise it in salt and boiling water afterwards and replace it as though it had never been touched nor noticed nor thought about.

Waking up gasping and sweating once far past midnight, the numbness set in as soon as his eyes had opened. Leorio hadn’t woken up as he usually did, for that day he had came home a few hours late and with glazed eyes and retired to bed soon after his dinner. Kurapika seized the opportunity for self-punishment, hiding in the bathroom as he bandaged his arm with a doctor-approved first aid kit which was conveniently available in the bathroom cabinet, seemingly placed there just for these moments.

As he returned to the comfort of their bed, Leorio’s arms reached out to find him before wrapping themselves around the petite boy. A pang of shame turned into an ocean, and he found himself quietly sobbing.

It wasn’t uncommon for them to wake up to new bloodstains on the sheets, with Leorio’s eczema and all. But that night was not a sleepless night up scratching for Leorio, and so he was curious about the source of the red droplets on the sheets. But in a drowsy daze, Leorio couldn’t retain the thought for long before it was replaced by another and he put it down to parasomnia. It was never brought up.

The secret was given away. All it took was a gentle brush against the wrist. Their hands interlocking at the wrong angle, and an audible wince and whimper from Kurapika.

Kurapika’s hand recoiled from the embrace. “Are you alright?” Leorio asked him, a sympathetic look on his face.

“It’s nothing. Muscle pain.”

“Pika, that’s never been one of your tender spots,” Leorio protested. Kurapika pulled his long-sleeves down past his hand.

His face hardened, eyebrows furrowing defensively as he curled his lip at the statement. “Nothing happened, Leorio. Not anything that’s your business.”

“Kurapika…”

“It was a bad moment! It was just a bad moment!” he spat. “I’m fine now,” he lied. “I don’t need you to take everything from me. I have to cope somehow.”

Leorio said nothing, feeling his heart sink.

* * *

Learning from their conflict that perhaps this young boy he was nursing back to health was not being quite as honest with him as he thought, Leorio began to monitor him cautiously. He felt naïve for expecting the scarlet-eyed boy to have recovered so smoothly, especially when he’d started on his antidepressants and Leorio was anticipating a dramatic decline in his mental health. But really, Kurapika had seemed fine. A little more low and socially inhibited than usual, but he seemed to be managing it fine.

But that was just how Kurapika was. He would never let on if something was wrong. In fact, the reason Leorio had taken him in is because he had _asked for help_ ¸and Leorio knew that if he didn’t step in for the man he cared for, he might never see him again.

And that’s why he felt stupid. Kurapika was so adamant to deal with issues on his own that he would conceal them. His face was expressive, but his eyes were vacant. It had been so long since they’d last been together that he couldn’t read his long-time friend the way he could before. He was more cold, more defensive, more dishonest.

Truthfully, that had always been a source of conflict between the two. They’d clash often, owed to the dichotomy of Leorio’s own friendly and inviting personality compared to Kurapika’s reserved nature, refusing to share his vulnerabilities with others for a fear they could turn on him at any moment.

Leorio had spent a couple of days after their conflict zoning out at work. The next day, he had a patient who was struggling with depression. He was desensitised to self-injury; it was just a wound, and he felt detached from it. But upon his patient rolling up her sleeve for him to assess the severity of her wounds, he struggled to hide his widened eyes, unblinking, and shook his head to cover up his moment of speechlessness.

He’d gotten patients’ names wrong, confused their illnesses and gave very vague and admittedly unhelpful answers to their medical questions. He was in a fog, only able to worry about Kurapika and what was happening in his head and if he could be there to stop it from happening maybe none of it would be happening even though he _had no proof anything was happening_ but _what if? What if he goes too far today?_

And every time he’d come home, Kurapika would be sitting on the sofa with a blanket over his legs, eyes so focused on the television he wouldn’t notice Leorio come home. Leorio would be washed over by relief, and he would go over to his partner, wrap his lengthy arms around him and kiss him softly on his cheek, warm with life.

Except the day he came home to nobody on the sofa, blanket neatly folded over and the television turned off.

“Kurapika?” he called out, a frantic edge to his voice. “Kurapika, are you home?”

He searched in the kitchen, which connected to the lounge. Past the lounge were stairs, which he normally scaled two at a time but today it was three. He searched in the bedroom, and noticed the en-suite door was locked. It had a slot where one could insert a key to unlock the door in the event someone was trapped. Leorio fumbled through his pockets frenetically, dropping some coins on the floor in the process.

He stared at the coin in his hands, a small brown 50 jenny coin. His hand glimmered with sweat, paralleling his beating heart. He panicked, overcome with the dilemma that perhaps his boyfriend could be using the bathroom and to go in would invade his privacy but perhaps he was dead on the floor and motionless and he could’ve done something to stop it –

“Kurapika…” Leorio dropped the coin. It fell with a clatter. “What the fuck have you done to yourself?”

Beyond his eyesight was the young boy, kneeled over on the floor, blood gushing from his arm as it painted the ground a slick red. His wide-eyed stare met Leorio’s, only the frail blonde’s was strewn with tears, eyes red and puffy. He trembled like a puppy that had not yet opened its eyes.

“I’m sorry,” the boy whispered, barely audible through the quivers in his voice.

Leorio’s perspective changed. He found himself on autopilot, washing his hands before going for the first aid kit in the cabinet. He held the boys arm, inspecting the bleeding points. Mechanically, he sanitised the area and applied pressure to the wound to stop the bleeding. He noted there were two deep wounds that needed his help, and that there were three other wounds that may require medical attention. He told Kurapika to apply pressure to his arm and elevate it, giving him time to collected a needle driver, tissue forceps, thread scissors, a needle and a sterilized suture thread.

He took hold of the needle driver, using it to pick up the needle laced with thread, and used the forceps briefly to assess the wound. He pushed the needle through the skin – Kurapika winced, squeezing his eyes closed at the impact and holding his breath as it made its way through the other side of the skin. And like a machine, he stitched up his wound before making his way down to the next.

“This is a monofilament suture, and it is absorbable,” he stated. “It’s a poliglecaprone structure, if you wanted to know. But I’m sure you know what that means,” he added with an eye roll. “Because you got through more medical books in a month than I did in my first 2 years of medical school.” Kurapika smiled faintly. “But you know what? I make money for it, so I’m the real winner and you know it!” At that point, Kurapika let out a quiet giggle, easing the tension between them.

He repeated the process once more for the second deep wound. He sanitised the next three wounds, dressing them each with a gauze before wrapping a bandage around his arm.

Finally, he sat next to Kurapika and gave him a loving kiss on the forehead. Kurapika erupted into tears, overwhelmed with shame for his existence and disgust at himself for being too stubborn to change. His racing thoughts reminded him of his worthlessness and how much of a liability he was. He was furious at himself. The trauma he had experienced was _years_ ago, and how could he still be so hung up about it? Frustration burned inside of him as he choked on his tears, clinging onto Leorio so hard he might never go away.

Once Kurapika had spilled enough tears for his eyes to burn, he spoke.

“Thank you, Leorio,” he mumbled.

“It’s nothing, kid,” Leorio responded, stroking Kurapika’s bicep. “I just wish you were honest with me. I want to know you’re going to be okay when I’m at work, and I need to know I’m not gonna come back to your lifeless, grey corpse… or something.” He shrugged at the thought, trying not to let it consume his mind.

Kurapika let out a sigh. “You know this is just my way of coping. I’m not going to die. I just need things to be better.”

“So… where are you at right now?”

“Um…” He paused, trying to think of the right words to say. “It’s dark. But I’ll be fine.” He leaned over to give his boyfriend a gentle kiss on the lips. He repeated himself: “Thank you, Leorio.”

* * *

Kurapika’s heart pounded as his mind replayed it on a loop, forcing him to watch over and over the moment he realised he’d lost everything and might be next. Guilt overcame him, and he clutched at his hair, squeezing his eyes shut, shaking his head frantically to get the memories out. _BANG_ went his head against the wall. _BANG_ and he yelled, screamed bloody murder, desperate for it to

_all_

_stop._

Shame consumed him, it ate him alive. The shame of who he was, the shame of what he’d done, the shame of how he would never be the person he used to be – the overachiever, the cool-minded one, the one before the symptoms set in.

_You don’t belong here, you’re a burden on everyone and you take their resources and their energy and their love and you destroy it._

_You shouldn’t have survived._

Adrenaline shot through his veins, his eyes widened in a scarlet stare at no point in particular, staring at the past he could not escape.

_You were the only one who could fix this and you FUCKED it all up. You’re a disappointment to a dead family._

He mourned and despaired the normal life he could never life, his body filled with energy that rendered him paralysed as he could only sit there with his blood throbbing in his ears, needing to move, needing to do something, _anything_.

_Every day I’m fucking back there, I should’ve died._

And he got up. He paced. The migraine set in, feeling like his brain was being clawed to bits, scars being reopened. He tensed and opened his mouth in agony, where a scream should’ve been but was lost to his helplessness.

_YOU DIDN’T DESERVE TO SURVIVE._

Drive took him over, part of him begging Leorio to hear him from work, or from the car, or to open the door right at that moment because he’d finished an hour early and was there to hold him in his arms, save him from himself, stop him from acting on himself. The other part of him compelled him against his will, it took him hostage as he found himself fumbling for his medication, each pop of the blister bringing him closer to his goal.

_YOU DESERVE THIS._

Handful by handful, chugging down the water and regurgitating them as he tried to take them all down at once, sobbing into his hands as his chest ached with a severity he hoped it might be a heart attack.

And it passed. He laid there, numb. Empty. Regretful.

Shame erupted through his body, gentle at first before it felt just as it had moments prior. He knew he would probably survive. He’d read the medical books. Gabapentin was safe in its overdose, and so was Seroxat.

Kurapika hunched over the toilet in darkness, vomit dripping from his mouth. He was trembling, three blankets wrapped around him as he dripped with sweat. The migraine was worse, pounding through his body like an electric shock with every single heartbeat. And his heart was pounding, faster than it was during his episode. His hand tremored over the toilet seat, and once he released the contents of his stomach, feeling it settle for the moment, Kurapika started pacing. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, in circles, before kneeling back over the toilet to make way for another hit of bile. He found his vision blurring; he would focus for a moment before finding it would become fuzzy with black spots. He heard the door.

Leorio paced through the door leisurely. It was quiet, as it always was, but Kurapika had been well for the past few days, reaching out to him for first aid when he needed it. He was none the wiser.

It would be wise to tell him – for he was a doctor after all – but he didn’t know how to tell him this. He didn’t even know how to tell him he lied about coming off his gabapentin, even though it _really did_ work for his pain but it was the only thing that kept him sane. He didn’t know how to explain to him that he wasn’t completely sober, and that he hadn’t been honest with him about his thoughts. He wished he had one of those magic pills, the one that lifted the block and let him share things with him. But he had to.

He collected the empty blisters, searching in Leorio’s bedside drawer for post-it-notes (he always kept spares, as he’d seen him fumble through the drawer on two occasions and pull some out before heading off to work) and a pen. He thought for a moment, brain thick with fog.

“ _Don’t ask about it please,”_ was what came to mind. He made his way downstairs, each foot shakily trying to find its footing as he gripped on to the rail, afraid he might fall. Wordlessly, he found the man in the kitchen and placed the empty blisters in front of him, avoiding his lover’s eye contact as he let Leorio calculate the situation.

There was a moment where he could feel Leorio’s disappointed glare. “Get in the car.”

Where Kurapika would normally object with a smart-ass response, he pursed his lips and collected his belongings.

The car journey was silent. They did not speak much in hospital. Still, Leorio fell asleep in the hospital room with him, ready to call in sick for work the next day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary for those who could not read:  
> Kurapika's medication starts to show its side-effects, taking him to a dark place. He starts to feel incredibly empty, struggling to read due to the brain-fog associated with his meds. He picks up cooking, finding it mindful and therapeutic, until he starts to focus on the knife. This takes him into a deceptive place, reliant on his old unhealthy coping mechanisms that gradually gets worse.  
> Leorio finds out when he brushes against Kurapika's arm, however he does not let on to it, insisting it's muscle pain - although Leorio is not so easily fooled.  
> He realises that the boy is not doing as well as he thought he was, but he was hiding it exceptionally well - and remembers that he'd always been proficient at hiding things, but they had not seen each other for a year and so Leorio had forgotten to consider this.  
> He finds his concern for his partner to start taking over his ability to work. His mind is thinking and worrying about him, wondering what he is up to and even becoming distressed seeing a patient's own self-harm, which he was so desensitised to before.  
> He walks in on Kurapika harming himself, shocked, before assessing his wounds and treating them at home. They share a silent moment as Kurapika breaks down, clinging onto his boyfriend. But once he is settled, Kurapika tells him he is in a dark place. But equally, he goes on to promise Leorio he will be okay, and this is just how he is coping. He doesn't want to worry him.  
> Until he has an episode, a particularly stressful one, where his trauma catches up to him and traps him in the past. His thoughts urge him to act on the episode and he takes an overdose of his medication.  
> Leorio comes home, and Kurapika fights through the block, only able to muster the words "Don't ask about it please" written on a post-it note, followed by shamefully handing Leorio the empty blisters.  
> Leorio takes him to the hospital, where he falls asleep while waiting for Kurapika to be discharged, ready to call in sick to work the next morning.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hospitalised for his drastic actions, Kurapika gets put on different medication.

**PATIENT SUMMARY:  
** BG of: C-PTSD, fibromyalgia, chronic migraines, substance abuse (opioids), insomnia.  
Patient arrived reporting an intentional overdose of 360mg Paroxetine and 9,600mg Gabapentin.  
Bloods showed hyponatremia, likely due to Gabapentin overdose.  
Patient had moderate to severe symptoms of serotonin syndrome.  
Sumatriptan discontinued. Paroxetine discontinued.  
25mg Promethazine for panic attacks and insomnia PRN initiated. 50mg Amitriptyline to be taken at night initiated – treatment for migraine, insomnia, depressive symptoms and C-PTSD.

 **DIAGNOSIS:**  
Acute hyponatremia. Nystagmus, consequent oculogyric crisis. Stage 2 hypertension. Tachycardia. Intermittent tremor. Serotonin syndrome.

 **TREATMENT:**  
IV hypertonic saline for hyponatremia, IV 5mg diazepam for tremor, 12mg + 6mg + 6mg cyproheptadine to lower BP. Kept inpatient for overnight observation. Full psychiatric evaluation. Medication changed.

 **GP MEDICATION BEFORE ADMISSION:  
** 10mg Paroxetine (Seroxat)  
600mg Gabapentin  
80mg Propranolol – PRN  
20mg Sumatriptan Nasal Spray – PRN  
6mg Sumatriptan Subcutaneous Injection – PRN

 **GP INITIATED MEDICATION STOPPED DURING IN-PT STAY:  
** 10mg Paroxetine (Seroxat)  
20mg Sumatriptan Nasal Spray – PRN  
6mg Sumatriptan Subcutaneous Injection – PRN  
80mg Propranolol – PRN **  
  
MEDICATION ON DISCHARGE:  
** 50mg Amitriptyline  
25mg Promethazine – PRN  
40mg Propranolol – PRN  
600mg Gabapentin – kept the same

* * *

A sleepless night (more so than usual) had manifested a very silly Kurapika, drunk with sleep deprivation. The hospital was not a comfortable place to rest your weary head.

For a start, he had an aching arm from the cannula that had been sticking from his veins for nearly 24 hours. He was filled with drugs, and side-effects from said drugs, and the rhythmic beeping in the background ensured that were he to start dozing off he would wake up suddenly with a different rhythmic beeping that was even more obnoxious. His skin was sticky from the plastic electrodes plastered all over his body for his ECG. He took pleasure in peeling these off, but regretted the residue it had left behind. His veins were cold from the fluids that he was currently receiving, although he silently noted that the feeling wasn’t too bad and was quite relaxing, in fact.

Furthermore, when he _had_ managed to fall asleep, he had woken up multiple times to:  
1\. Multiple nurses fussing over him, waking him up by adding a new type of drug or fluid to ooze into his blood.

2\. A doctor coming to speak to him about any new symptoms (to which he’d responded that he couldn’t know because he was _sleeping_ ).

3\. What Kurapika would’ve considered in-house entertainment were he not trying to sleep; he was rudely awaken by an old man named Trebo ripping his catheter out and screaming insults at the nurses as they had to physically restrain him. Instead, he found this inconsiderate and irritating – this was not the dementia ward (it was the Acute Assessment Unit), and he had not slept enough to garner any sympathy for the suffering man.

The good news was, he considered, that he was not asleep for long enough to dream and so had no nightmares that night.

The other good news was that – despite sleeping alone, a feeling he was no longer accustomed to – he had woken up to his boyfriend, drooling and snoring in an armchair next to his hospital bed.

After a few hours of fuss and more fluids, he was settled and simply being observed before discharge. He only had a psychiatric assessment left before he could leave. Awake (hardly) and feeling playful, he and his lover were having a mischievous back-and-forth, pushing each other’s buttons lovingly.

“I’d take hospital food over your overcooked rice any day,” Kurapika teased, blowing a kiss at him.

“Hey! I make it with love, you bastard!” Leorio exclaimed, shooting an endearingly sharp gaze at the bed-bound boy.

“Is that what the burnt taste is, then?” he retorted, a mischievous glimmer in his eyes, the edges of his lips curled up in amusement as Leorio opened his mouth, ready to give him a piece of his mind. “Speaking of…” Kurapika interrupted.

An exhausted-looking nurse of a chubby stature pushed a trolley in his direction, running on the adrenaline of the night shift and the hope that time will pass quickly enough for her shift to be over soon. “Hi honey,” she grumbled, words not matching her spiteful tone. “I got some lunch for you.”

She went through the menu and Kurapika settled for a minestrone soup (which tasted of salty dish-water), a jacket potato with cheese and butter and a peach-flavoured yogurt rather than a miscellaneous fruit pot. He also asked for a glass of water, politely declining the selection of acidic-sounding juices he was offered.

“And may I have a coffee?” Leorio requested with a sheen of entitlement to his voice.

“Sorry, honey. No can do. Not a patient,” she declined flatly, not looking in his direction nor at anything in particular.

“But – I’m a doctor!” he protested to no avail as the pudgy woman pushed the trolley away, bearing no mind to what he had to say. “Tell me why I’m thousands in debt to medical school if I CAN’T EVEN GET A COFFEE AT A HOSPITAL!” He flailed his arms wildly, shouting for the nurse to pay attention to him and bring him a god damn coffee but it was no use, for she simply ignored him. “I didn’t want one of your shitty watery coffees anyway!” He crossed his arms, mumbling curses under his breath.

Kurapika’s nose wrinkled as he elicited a giggle, slender hands covering his mouth. “After all, that’s the reason you studied medicine in the first place, right Leo?”

Flustered at the nickname, a very red Leorio retorted, “That’s Mister – Mister Leo to you, actually. And yes. Coffee is important to me.”

“Well… what about when we’re out of here I make you the best coffee you’ve ever tasted?”

“For the money I’m missing out on today, I better get my money’s worth later,” he grinned suggestively.

“Oh really? You’ll have to be good to me then, Mister Leo.” He batted his eyelashes, an alluring smile on his face. Leorio blinked in surprise.

As he was about to remark something extra suggestive, a woman in light blue scrubs, like the other nurses, interrupted the men offering a change in atmosphere for the worse. She had slits for eyes, with a very suspicious face. She looked like a fox, with an olive complexion and a long and pointy nose. She had dry and pouty lips, arched eyebrows, and tired brown hair pulled into a bun, little strands sticking out.

“Hiya, are you Kurapika?” Her voice was soothing, like warm milk, although there was a superficiality to her words. “My name is Marits – I’m a mental health nurse from the psychiatric liaison team. I’m just here today make sure you’re safe to go home. We’re going to assess your mental state just to see if there’s anything we need to do to help, ok sweetie?”

“Yeah,” he answered bluntly, all the allure he had exhibited disappearing somewhere into the atmosphere. The nurse stared at Leorio, gaze politely urging him to go make himself useful somewhere else.

“Alright, I can see the look you’re giving me! I’m not stupid, use your words!” he defended himself. “I guess I’ll go get myself a _coffee_ at the food court then,” he mumbled under his breath before lifting himself off the old leather armchair next to Kurapika’s bed.

“Can you tell us a little about what happened?” she asked him, getting her notepad out and preparing her pen.

“I took an overdose.”

“And why did you do that, sweetheart?” Her hair fell in front of her face, and she pulled the loose strands back behind her ears.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly.

“Well, what happened leading up the overdose? How were you feeling? What was happening inside you?” She bombarded him with questions, realising he would not give too much away; he was a reserved man, and she was calculating in her mind how to get this conversation to go somewhere new.

“Flashbacks.”

“So it’s related to your diagnosis? Of Complex PTSD?” He nodded in agreement. “And what was the intention? To end your life? To harm yourself? Or neither?”

“I don’t know.”

The woman sighed quietly. “How’s your medication working for you, sweetie?”

He glared at her. “Fantastic.”

She looked up from her notes, drawing a false sympathy onto her face as she turned her head to look at Kurapika. “Have you done anything like this before, sweetheart?”

“I’ve thought about it.”

“But you’ve never done it?” she prodded.

“No. I didn’t feel in control of my actions yesterday.” He shuddered, replaying the events of yesterday, although where he tried to remember the full story his mind would go blank. He had only bits and pieces.

“Alright, alright... and if you go home, do you think this will happen again?”

“I don’t know. I feel fine - well, I feel how I usually feel. When I’m not trying to kill myself,” he confessed.

“So it was a suicide attempt, sweetie?” Her eyes brightened with an uneasy excitement, finally getting somewhere.

“I don’t know. I’d like to change my medication please.”

* * *

The amitriptyline was a double-edged sword. Perhaps the edge was even more pointed in his direction, for it was no magic cure and the side-effects seemed endless. But the sword also took a lot of weight off of his shoulders; it exchanged the restless nights for night terrors (which Kurapika had pondered upon as to whether this was a good or bad, but settled on the fact that it was better to be _unconsciously_ terrified than restless, agitated and fully aware of the terror), and it exchanged the fatigue of his mental ailments and chronic illness for medication-induced fatigue. It was more all-consuming, but he found it was easier to force his way through it since it alleviated, to an extent, his crippling feelings of shame and guilt that had kept him bed-bound at times.

His fuse was certainly just as quick to light and he found himself constantly waiting to finally be the same old “cool and collected” Kurapika who was almost entirely unfazed by the external world. Every minor inconvenience – running out of milk, stubbing his toe, doors slamming too loudly – sent him into a flash of blinding fury. The difference was the flash, as opposed to the wave or even the entire ocean. Still, his moodswings caught Leorio off-guard a little more than usual since they were so _quick_ to pass. In Leorio’s absence, he would still cope in an unhealthy way, daydreaming of oxycodone and slashing himself up (which he was still at the mercy of on bad days, but the wounds were more shallow and the episode would cease as soon as relief had been obtained, and he was able to shake it off and tell himself “it was a bad moment, not a bad life.”)

Migraines had not ceased; they still popped up from time to time – although significantly more scarce, since he found himself in a lighter headspace – but with the Propranolol (which he’d occasionally double or even triple dose when it was particularly bad) he was able to lay in bed and sleep it away until it was gone. However, he would indeed be shackled to his bed, for the mixture of the gabapentin, propranolol and amitriptyline had subjected him to more frequent fainting episodes.

He went outside more. The medium-spirited boy would go on bi-weekly evening strolls with his taller boyfriend, like an old married couple. It was easier when the chill of darkness had set in, although he found himself intensely analysing his environment at times, ready for attack at any moment. He learned the pay-off was better at night time after going for a mid-afternoon stroll one day.

On the walk, he had felt a surge of heat travel through his body, through his veins and out through his sweat. Complaining to Leorio of the heat, Leorio had suggested they take a break if it was too much for him to which Kurapika defensively and breathlessly declined. Leorio, however, slowed them down to a halt as he informed Kurapika that it was, in fact, “really cold today, Pika,” point emphasised by a scarf and wooly hat.

Suddenly, the glistening boy found himself feeling light-headed, blinking profusely to reorient himself. His grip tightened around Leorio’s ample hand before he was overcame with a weakness that turned his legs to jelly, struggling to keep him up. His stomach started churning, tingles developing in his arms as the edges of the world turned black. He closed his eyes for a moment.

Upon opening his eyes, he found he was turned on his side in recovery position with a very concerned looking Leorio standing over him. He also noted a putrid scent that he recognised as his own stomach contents – funnily enough, it was sitting right next to his body with just enough on his chin to realise he had indeed vomited.

“You fainted,” Leorio stated, eyes peering at him with worry and an analytical gaze as though he were assessing him for underlying conditions. “Does this happen a lot?”

To Kurapika’s own surprise, he thought about it before realising it only happened after days of not eating, often accompanied by coke-fuelled benders. “Not recently.” He felt himself trembling and realised he must’ve been extremely cold, but still sweating and feeling dry and dehydrated.

“It must be the amitriptyline, then,” Leorio reassured himself. “Lowers your blood pressure. From now on, we’ll take some water and maybe go at night instead – should be harder for you to overheat. And also,” his tone changed, becoming aggressive, “we need to take breaks if you start feeling unwell, you punk!” He pointed his finger at Kurapika until the floored boy rolled his eyes in reluctant agreement. He got himself up.

The other issue with the amitriptyline was the thick fog that was clouding his cognitive abilities; he _still_ couldn’t read properly. He would make it a few pages in (fumbling his way through the strings of words connected together which sometimes sounded like a foreign language) before finding himself staring at nothing in particular as he let out a defeated sigh and closed the book. The frustration of being unable to effortlessly spend his day reading books had led to meltdowns, followed by crying and lobbing books at walls. He adapted to this by listening to audiobooks, using his smartphone to satiate his need for knowledge. He used this to multi-task for he struggled to focus on one task at a time, so followed easier while he was cleaning up or cooking.

He had taken up cooking again. He was no longer plagued by intrusive thoughts of the knife – except for on bad days, which were now manageably bad rather than soul-destroyingly bad – and was able to chop, cut and season in peace. He only cooked once a day: awaiting for Leorio to come home to surprise him with traditional Kurta pies and stews. Almost every day he would be caught by surprise remembering that eating was a thing he had to do, confused by his rumbling appetite and how his basic drive for hunger had escaped his mind.

Forgetfulness taking a hold on him, Kurapika often forgot whether he’d taken his nightly dose. He found this out when he went to get Leorio and himself a glass of water and woke up to the same concerned face of his partner standing over him on the kitchen floor. After that night, Leorio supervised him taking his nightly dose and even crossed it off on the calendar above his desk as a bold X to symbolise this.

One night, while brushing his teeth with half-closed eyes, he caught a glance of himself in the mirror. He noticed his eyes were a little less glazed over, his bags less prominent. His face was less structured; he had more plumpness to his cheeks. His skin wasn’t translucent. He was still pale, but he was recognisable. That was him. He could see himself again. His hair had a bit more volume. It was still limp on his head, but the strands were less thin and they covered his ears again, compared to before when they would poke through as though playing a game. He saw the little boy full of curiosity and wonder.

Although, he noted, some things had changed. Perhaps he had lost the determination that had re-traumatised him. And perhaps his moral high-ground had been exhausted. He never would’ve thought he would be the type of person to use substances to alter his state of mind, and he had always judged those who had. But he _was_ the person he would’ve judged some years ago. He had changed – of course he had. His emotions were more volatile. He seemed to lose control easier these days. He had always been the calm and collected one, save for when he was triggered, but there seemed to be more triggers these days, more things to set him off – such as a door slamming too loudly.

 _But_ , he thought, _I’m not bad_. _I’m not a bad person_. He pushed his hair behind his ears and inspected the small moon-shaped scar on his cheek from his rock bottom. Eyes wandering to his hand, he curled and flexed his fingers, remembering the morning after where he screamed in agony at the sensory overload, the migraine, the throbbing, the dull ache through his body. He spat out his toothpaste, reflecting on how his tongue brushed over his teeth and there was no fuzziness or bad breath.

During his episodes, he would always find himself begging to go back to who he was before. But in reality, there was no before. There was just who he was 2 weeks ago, 9 months ago, 5 years ago. All of the Kurapikas, he considered, had their nuances, their strengths and their weaknesses.

 _I’ve changed._ And that was okay with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! the next few chapters wont be too heavy :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! my mental health has been piss poor so i've only got a short chapter today but i hope you enjoy it regardless <3 warning for sexual themes

“You always do this!”

Leorio’s face was contorted with stress and pressure, hands moving rapidly as he racked his brain for words, any words, short or long, thinking on a timer.

Meanwhile, a calm Kurapika sat silently, lips pursed (with the occasional bite of concentration), as his hands moved equally as quick, fingers finding words with ease.

Finally, the timer stopped.

“I told you you always fucking do this! You always choose games you know you’re gonna win!” Leorio hissed at Kurapika who sat there, unblinking, a smug smile on his face. He had won another game of anagrams. “Well it’s _my_ turn to choose now, so I hope your pool skills have improved!”

Kurapika let out an audible groan, rolling his eyes. “You know how I feel about pool, Leorio. What’s the point in choosing a game only one of us enjoys?”

“You think I enjoy my losing streak? You think I don’t want to fight you every time I get the notification for another fucking word game?” Leorio responded, eyebrows furrowed and red in the face.

Kurapika grinned at the wound up man, crawling over to where he was sat on the floor and forcing himself into his lap. He wrapped his arms around him forcefully. “You’re not reaaaally mad at me. You’re mad at yourself for your subpar word game skills,” he taunted, planting a kiss on his neck.

“No, I’m mad at you,” Leorio replied sternly, although his eyes looked away to the side as though he weren’t telling the truth.

Kurapika tightened his grip on his boyfriend, overpowering him as he pushed him onto the ground – he flailed wildly beneath him.

“Get off of me, you big oaf!” he protested, kicking his legs underneath the boy.

“Shhh, you’re in time-out,” Kurapika responded, his voice cool as he raised a quieting finger to Leorio’s lips.

Leorio sat still for a moment, accepting his defeat. Then, taking advantage of Kurapika’s lowered guard, he kicked his legs up with a force that threw Kurapika off balance. Grabbing him by the ribs, he ran his fingers up and down as Kurapika kicked frantically, laughing in pain. “Not the ribs!!” he cried, blindly throwing his arms out towards Leorio’s face, pushing it backwards with his palm.

Leorio stayed dominant, although the boy had hit him square in the nose and he was winded. He grabbed his arms, knocking him to the floor, straddling him so escape was not an option. “Admit you abuse our GamePigeon rules." Kurapika stared back at him, a determined look on his face.

Wiggling his hips, Kurapika drove his hip up into Leorio’s groin and he cried out in pain, releasing the boy from his grip. “That was not a fair move!” he protested, holding his groin protectively. Kurapika snickered and pushed him back onto the floor at the shoulders, regaining his power. Then he cried out as he felt a pain in his arm.

“Leorio! Biting is completely against the rules!” he raged, pulling his arm away from the neanderthal’s mouth.

“Well so is groin damage!” he defended himself.

“Fine. I like winning. I know you’re terrible at word games,” the injured blonde confessed, rubbing his arm.

“Why are you rubbing your arm? I didn’t bite you _that_ hard!”

“Do you want me to bite _you_? It’s not a nice feeling, Leo!”

Leorio adopted a sympathetic look onto his face, wrapping his arms around the petite other. “I’m sorry I bit you.” Then, a mischievous smile appeared. “But it was hilarious.”

Kurapika snorted, exhaling air to convey his agitation as he turned away from the doctor. “You think my pain is a laughing matter. You’re getting… the silent treatment.”

“Okay then. But every time you give me the silent treatment you come back to me as soon as you realise you can’t focus on reading. I’ll speak to you in 15 then?” he teased, giving a kiss on Kurapika who huffed in response.

Leorio was happy to be teasing him. It was more like the old days, although Kurapika was a little less independent – but he enjoyed that; it made him feel needed. It always frustrated him how Kurapika would refuse to let others help him, so stubbornly determined to prove himself. He would always be stubborn – they both were – but at least when he needed help he could ask for it now. _He’s so much more like himself,_ Leorio realised, staring at the boy who was now reading a book with an aggressive expression on his face.

His eyes were squinting, with a frustrated but equally determined expression, and his nostrils kept flaring as he had to scan back to the top of the page. Blonde locks had fallen in front of his face to which he beared no mind to, occasionally letting a slender hand push it behind his ears. And most of all, he looked alive. He looked like he’d been sleeping, eating and most importantly, he looked happy. Despite the anger on his face, he looked happy.

Leorio strolled over behind him to where he was seated on the couch, legs crossed, and drew his arms around him in an embrace he hoped he would never have to pull back from.

“Keep trying, Pika,” he encouraged him. “But if you can’t, come sit with me.” His hands lifted Kurapika’s chin and they shared a slow kiss.

* * *

A still but panting, entangled mess fogged up the windows. They held each other, ignoring the discomfort of the sweat that dripped from their bodies as they drew each other closer, not able to get enough. Kurapika batted his eyelids at Leorio’s as they shared a moment of gazing into the window to the soul of the other. Their faces had a gentle smile on them, one of pure contentment and intimacy, as they leaned closer to press their noses together. Flushed red, Kurapika was the one to break the silence.

“Can I light a cigarette?”

Leorio flicked him on the head. “We just finished having sex for the first time and you ask to light a cigarette?”

“Oh, sorry. I mean… hmm… you were alright,” he teased, nose wrinkled with mischief.

“Hey!” The larger man wrapped his arms even tighter around Kurapika, holding him hostage. “You’re not going anywhere until you start being nice to me!”

Kurapika struggled, flailing his legs as they giggled and tossed and turned and fought. Despite Kurapika’s capacity for strategy, in the end it was Leorio who overpowered him through sheer strength and Kurapika surrendered.

“Fine. I like you.” He rolled his eyes in jest, before grabbing Leorio’s face and planting a soft kiss on his lips that he was quick to reciprocate. They drew each other closer, bellies pressed together and legs intertwined. The tossing and turning commenced again and Kurapika found himself laying on top of the older man. Parting from the kiss, Kurapika’s hands found Leorio’s and their fingers entangled. Gentle, loving kisses were planted all over Leorio’s face as they laughed and giggled and nuzzled each other.

“I want to be in this moment forever,” Kurapika half-whispered, eyes serious but full of love. A wave of drowsiness came over him, energy burned out from their time together in bed, and he flopped over to Leorio’s side, bringing the man’s arm around his body like the boy was a plushie.

They stared into each other’s eyes again before Leorio spoke. “I love you, Pika,” he murmured.

Kurapika smiled back at him, eyes saying enough. He grabbed Leorio’s face with one hand, squishing his cheeks together, and said, “So you’ll let me smoke in here?”. Leorio’s face jokingly dropped in disbelief and Kurapika planted another kiss on his lips to silence his protests.

He climbed on top of Leorio, reaching to the edge of the bed to find his nightstand. Leorio let out a grunt as though the little man’s body weight were too much for him to bear, although he often picked him up with ease. Kurapika fumbled through his drawer and retrieved a pack of cigarettes, taking one to his lips as he fumbled for a lighter now.

“Will you do the honours?” he asked Leorio innocently. “Since you love me so much.” Leorio knew he would not hear the end of his love confession, and although he didn’t expect Kurapika to say it back he knew the flushed blonde was only fixating on it because he felt the same (although was too afraid of vulnerability to utter the words back). He lit Kurapika’s cigarette, the flame temporarily lighting up his face with a golden light.

“I thought you were gonna quit smoking,” Leorio asked him, raising an eyebrow.

“I am! I only smoke when it feels good,” he winked back, smoke crawling from his mouth. “Oxytocin has an amazing synergy with it.”

“I’m sure it does,” Leorio choked. “But I don’t think that constitutes ‘quitting.’”

“Then no, I’m not quitting,” Kurapika stated, shooting a glance at Leorio as he tapped cigarette ash into a mug. They sat in silence for a while, enjoying the sound of nothing but the other’s breathing until Kurapika finished his cigarette. Then he turned to Leorio and planted a kiss on his cheek as the man curled his arm around Kurapika’s ribs. Their eyes weary, Kurapika’s head rested on Leorio’s bare chest which was now less sticky with sweat. Holding each other in a tight embrace as they breathed in each other's exhales, they succumbed to their drowsiness.


	9. Authors note

Hi guys - just to let you know this fanfic will be taking a hiatus (I don't know how long it will be). This is because my mental health is simply piss poor right now, and I lack any kind of inspiration to write anything however I do have a full plot and I am really really excited to keep writing when my burnout-induced depression/depression-induced writer's block fucks off. I also can't guarantee any regular updates from here-on; I do believe I was in a manic-depressive episode when I was churning chapters out and now I simply am _not._ However, please keep your eyes peeled as I pinky promise I will finish this fanfic because I want to tell this story as it's the first plot line that's come super easily to me <3 

It is definitely not low on my priority list - every day I think about writing something but my mind just goes **blank**. It's really frustrating me because I have so much passion for this story, and it means so fucking much to me it sucks I can't put any words into it right now. 

I am also having a psychiatrist review in a few days; my medication change may either make me more brain foggy or more able to write. I'm lowkey hoping it makes me hypomanic (said every manic-depressive in a depressive episode) so I can have a boost to finish writing and have some kind of feeling of fulfilment. I already have the constant anxiety so anything else would just be better lol although if I was hypomanic I'd be complaining about my restless legs and paranoid I'd been drugged :P Mental illness is whack

I'm coping! Don't worry about me :) Definitely coping in a healthier way than ever before thanks to my mental health team <3 Anyway I really hope to see you guys again soon and all your feedback fuels me; every kudos u give makes a kitten smile. I really love you guys!!!! I'm so happy that others are enjoying my work there's seriously no rush like it except maybe *insert drug here btw dont do drugs u will end up like kurapika*


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurapika wakes up to a phone call, and Leorio has a bad day at work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys update im medicated now. apparently ive been in a mixed episode lmao but my meds have just immediately taken me out of it which is nice. i hope you guys enjoy <3 i've already started the next chapter so hopefully ill be able to post a new one soon but i cant promise anything!  
> ps i apologise if theres any mistakes in it - i literally started writing at 6 am and its now 8am and i havent had a wink of sleep lmao

Shooting up from his sleep with terror pumping in his veins, Kurapika took a moment to come to his senses before realising the noise that had awakened him was his phone ringing. At 11 in the morning. _Rude._ Irritably, he picked up the phone not bothering to check the name of who called.

“Good morning,” he grumbled.

A familiar voice sounded from the other line – gentle with familiarity, teasing with friendship but harshened from experience. “Yo – Kurapika? You really alive?”

The anger faded as quick as it arrived. _Killua…_ “Killua. It’s good to hear from you.”

“Why didn’t you ever call, idiot?” he snapped.

“I’m sorry. I had some… things going on,” he sighed, guilt gnawing at him. _I should’ve called._

“The only reason I know you’re alive is because – you know that day you were high as balls and called Leorio? Yeah – he went home all giddy and called us up and told us you’re still alive! Honestly, came as a surprise to me. You know, with how you always nearly get yourself killed.”

Kurapika felt a warm smile in his cheeks. The same old Killua. Snarky, witty, but secretly kind-hearted. He hadn’t changed one bit – except for the maturity in his voice; which he recognised to have developed from the same traumatic – well, toughening (he preferred) experience that Kurapika himself went through facing the troupe. It was clear to him Killua had experienced the same level of hatred, the same intensity of resolve and… possibly life-threatening conditions. Something terrifying enough to the boy who had seen it all to have changed him. Enough to damage the boy who was already damaged enough. The guilt returned to him as he realised his friends had been through something that he wasn’t there for. He never repaid his debt to them.

“Kurapika! You there?”

“I’m here.” _I’m here now. I’m sorry I wasn’t before._ “Why did you call?”

“So are you and Leorio a thing now?” he asked bluntly, a glimmer of amusement in his voice.

“Yes. We are together now,” Kurapika confessed coolly, grateful Killua was not there to see the warmth in his face turn red.

A pleased giggle sounded across the phone. “Gon! Pay up your 1000 jenny! …The bet we made 2 years ago? Oh, you lost when you predicted they’d get together in Yorknew City, remember? And I said – no way, both of them are too proud for that and that it would take at _least_ another year... Hey! We made a blood bet! You totally owe me!” Kurapika felt his heart flutter with warmth, love and gratitude. _I… still have really good friends. I don’t deserve them, but they don’t care. It’s like nothing’s changed. These people are incredible._

“So you guys are smooshing booties?” he teased.

“Our booties have never ‘smooshed’, Killua. Yes, we’ve been intimate. You don’t need to know the details!” he sighed.

“They’ve smooshed booties, Gon!” A childish symphony of laughter roared over the phone. “So how long did it take? First date? Couple months?” he prodded. Kurapika could vividly imagine his mischievous expression.

“Killua! That’s enough!” he snapped with embarrassment.

“Doesn’t matter anyway – Gon, you owe me another 1000 jenny. That’s 2000 now! Your estimate was waaaay off. Them? With their sexual tension? An entire year? Oh - sorry Pika. Just business matters. So you’re living in Yorknew City with Leorio?”

“Yeah – I didn’t expect him to have settled there, but it does make sense. Yorknew City has some of the highest paid medical staff in the world – in the good parts of town. And, you know, if you’re making good cash you get a pretty good standard of living here. The less wealthy parts of town, though, are… hmm… not well insulated, for a start.”

“Why did you stay there?” Killua asked, an innocent edge to his tone.

His heart stopped, throat choking up. “Killua… big city, sketchy parts of town with illegitimate ways to make money and the biggest market of illicit products in the world. My disappearance act. I don't think I need to spell it out for you.”

“Oh shit – yeah. Yeah, I’ve heard. Well, how’ve you been?”

“I’ve been… okay.” Kurapika realised that for the first time he was. He really was… _okay._ “And… how have you been doing? Have you been taking care?”

“Want me to fill you in?”

Kurapika listened intently, the shame of being unavailable to his friends becoming ever more overbearing as he heard more and more details of the chimera ant uprising, and Gon’s hospitalisation. So that’s what had changed. “Killua, I’m sorry. Tell Gon I’m sorry too. I wasn’t there. But I’m here now, if you’ll have me.”

He could almost hear Killua’s grin. “Apology accepted! You’ll always be family, Kurapika. You can’t be there for everything. Anyway, lately it's just been the usual mischief. A few months in the Heaven’s Arena for the extra cash. He’s thinking of trying out for the biennial Battle Olympia. Idiot! Although – ”

Kurapika heard footsteps from the phone, as though Killua was leaving the room. He lowered his voice to a barely audible whisper. “Gon’s been worrying me.” Kurapika’s heart sank. “He’s been having a lot of night terrors, waking up screaming, and sometimes he completely changes. Like you with spiders. Well, for him it’s cats.” He laughed – a nervous laugh nonetheless – and then paused. Kurapika noted a shaky exhale.

“He goes into this blaze of fury and it’s so difficult to calm him down. He starts repeating things over and over – things I still remember him saying a year ago. It’s like he’s stuck there. I see him scanning the room for the nearest exit. Sometimes he gets excruciating pain in his arm. That screaming just chills me to the bone. I’ve killed and tortured before; screams should mean nothing to me. But with Gon… it’s…” He stopped abruptly. A moment of silence passed. A bittersweet understanding of Gon’s state ached in Kurapika’s chest. He silently cursed himself for not protecting him. He should've been there to protect him.

“And it sucks. It just sucks to see him go through the same shit I’ve been going through my whole life. It means nothing to me, it’s just how I live – it’s all I’ve ever known. But… that’s my best friend, you know? I’d sacrifice myself in a heartbeat for him to sleep peacefully through the night. I know what he dreams about. He doesn’t have to tell me, but when he wakes up in the night I can see in his eyes what happening to him. He’s afraid to sleep alone, so I’ve been living with him and his aunt-mom when we aren't travelling. I just want him to be okay.”

Kurapika felt his heart rip into pieces more and more as he went on. _Gon… the boy who saw his father’s abandonment as a challenge to overcome. The one who felt no fear as a hostage of the troupe because of his faith in me. I can’t even imagine… what he must’ve gone through to break him like this._ “Thank you for letting me know. Please take my word – I’m here now. And he’ll learn to cope. It’s fresh, but he still has his spirit – nothing could take that from hi-”

“I was just taking a dump Gon! Geez! Yeah? And what if I stayed on the phone to Kurapika? We’re catching up!” Kurapika chuckled to himself. _He has Killua. He’ll be okay._ “Oh yeah! That’s why we called – Kurapika, Gon incoming.”

The voice on the phone changed to the cheerful voice he recognised immediately (although it sounded less innocent). “Kurapika! When can we see you?” _Still just as straightforward as he’s ever been._ “There’s a fair somewhere in Yorbia tomorrow evening – you’ll come won’t you? I’ve missed you!”

“Gon – Yorbia is a continent. More details, please.” _I missed you too,_ he added silently.

“Oh yeah! It is, isn’t it. Well it’s near Yorknew! You’ll find it – you’re Kurapika. But you have to promise you’ll be there because we have to travel from Padokea – huh? Kil, I thought Heaven’s Arena was in the same country! Ermm… what country is this then?” _Still simple,_ Kurapika smiled _._

“I’ll be there, Gon. I promise.” _I promise._

* * *

Door slamming open, Kurapika immediately knew Leorio had had a _day._

“I cannot believe the nerve of some of my colleagues – we both went to the same medical school! How can you act like you know more than me? And the same bastard who brags about the body count he racked up during college like collecting holes is a prize – he spent most of his free time partying! What medical student even _has_ free time?! The bastard must’ve passed through a damn miracle of God!”

Veins bulging from the older man's temples, Kurapika averted himself to the threatening glare of the man who had taken some shit today. His eyes softened with sympathy. “Peppermint or chamomile?”

His steps made an impact on the floor beneath him as though he were daring it to fight back. Pacing back and forth, he removed his clothes for the day before changing into his comforting pyjamas and dumped them in a dejected pile on the floor. Leorio stomped up the stairs and threw his briefcase in the general direction of their bedroom. “I’ll sort it later!” he yelled as he made his way down the stairs, jumping to his own defense as though his buttons had been pushed enough today.

Kurapika stood in front of the man, resting a hand on his waist. “Chamomile?” he encouraged softly. He nodded and slumped down on the sofa, head in hands.

“I hate how other doctors talk down to you like it’s competition to be the best doctor! We graduated the same year, dicksplash! He completely disregarded a patient’s pre-existing condition – he’d had MENINGITIS, mind you – yeah, when he suggested how to treat his anaphylaxis, and when I reminded him he told me he’s treated meningitis survivors before and it doesn’t affect the antihistamine side-effects! It. Causes. Seizures! And guess what?! He had a seizure!” His glare burned into Kurapika, and he felt his skin crawl from the passion seething behind his gaze.

“Breathe, Leo!” he called from the kitchen. “The day is behind you now.”

“And then! He told _me_ how to treat the seizure!” he continued. “You think I don’t know how to treat a SEIZURE? Do I look like a first-year nurse to you? Is that what my student debt NOT EVEN COVERED by my hunter license adds up to? Being treated like a first-year nurse? IV antihistamines for someone with meningitis-induced epilepsy…” he shook his head, muttering to himself. “What a moron. He’s such a pain in the ass to work with!”

Kurapika passed him the mug of tea he had prepared, hot to the touch but not scalding. Gripping it firmly, Leorio's knuckles turned white.

“Leorio, take it easy. You’re home now. No more asshole colleagues – you have a break,” he comforted the other, taking his mug from his hands and placing it on the table to prevent him from smashing his favourite teacup. Placing his hands on Leorio’s shoulders, he massaged him gently. “There’s a fair tomorrow night – how about we… go with Gon and Killua?” he enquired sheepishly.

“You? You hate going out!” he remarked.

“Well… I spoke to Gon and Killua earlier. Killua called. And it might be nice. It’ll be our first _date_ date, and we’ll see our friends. What do you think about it?” 

“Yeah… That sounds great, Pika.” He paused for a moment, their eyes lingering as they melted into each other’s gazes. “Pika…”

His heart skipped a beat. “Yes, Leo?”

“Shall we get take-away tonight?”  
  



	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang reunites for a night at the fair, which also happens to be Kurapika and Leorio's first date.  
> Alternative summary: lads night out

A group of friends arrived at the funfair, most of them donning scarves, hats and warm woolly coats but the smallest boy wearing his classic short shorts that were absolutely impractical. Breathing out their warmth, all members could see their exhales billowing in front of them amongst the dark chill. The sweet smells of pastries, mulled wine and sugary confections wafted into their nostrils, inviting relief from the sharp smell of the cold which they gladly snuggled up to. Lights flickered in front of them, a neon forest full of sounds and choruses of screaming. Shades of a fluorescent rainbow flashed a chorus of painfully striking eye-strain. They could hardly hear themselves talk over the cacophonous melody of sounds in their vicinity, each of them choosing one person to speak to (and having to repeat their sentence multiple times until one of them gave up).

Running in front of the remaining trio, Gon’s eyes sparkled with awe at the choices available. This was not his first fair, but the spark of excitement was just as fresh as the first time. “Killua! Let’s go on the bumper cars!”

“Bumper cars? C’mon, something a little more exciting, Gon! You know it takes a lot for me to get an adrenaline rush. How about… the haunted house!” He imitated a ghost, playfully lunging at Gon with wild eyes.

“Ahhh Killua… you know I’m scared of haunted houses!”

“You’re hardly scared of anything! Whatever – I’ll protect you, then you can choose whatever lame ride you wanna go on!” he sneered.

“Hey! Bumper cars aren’t lame – they’re competitive. Be nice to me or I’ll take you on the carousel next!” They raced off side by side, trying to outrun each other. Kurapika’s jaw dropped as Gon smacked headfirst into a man probably triple his size who looked down at him, bewildered and vexed. Gon looked up at him innocently, taking the berating with a goofy smile as he scratched his head nervously.

“Stay safe! Keep in touch with us!” Kurapika called after them as they ran into the distance. He turned to Leorio. “What calls to you for our first ride?”

He shuddered with pressure and the cold. “Hey, you’re the one that invited me here! Gimme a break from decision-making; that’s what my days off are for. You take the lead.”

Peering around with squinted eyes, the scrawny boy weighed up the pros and cons of each ride. He found his calling as his eyes fell on the ride directly in front of them. “Okay. I’ve decided.”

“Yes?”

“The tagada. Look, they’re getting people on board now.” He pointed towards the round bowl ahead of them, fenced by a series of bars to hold on to. People mostly in their teenage years were already climbing aboard to sit on the conjoined couch.

“Eurgh…” Leorio felt his head spin at the imagined vertigo the ride would induce.

“Ride now, vomit afterwards,” he demanded. Without waiting for an answer, he took Leorio’s hand in his and pulled him towards the ride.

Kurapika (unfazed and overly excited) stepped off the ride with Leorio staggering behind him in an ungraceful wobble. “I can’t believe you fell for that! They _always_ pretend the ride is over – I’m surprised you didn’t break your nose when you fell,” he laughed unrestrainedly. “Did you see how all those kids were laughing at you?!”

“I was too busy trying not to fall to my death, so I actually _didn’t_ notice thank you very much!” he defended himself. “And don’t even _act_ like your eyes didn’t go red with fear for my life!”

“Hmm… red with amusement, actually. And second-hand embarrassment for you. That was particularly intense,” the boy jested back.

Maintaining the lead, Kurapika chose the top spin which suspended them in air for what Leorio deemed “far too long to not have been a fault and complete safety hazard,”. Following shortly after was the waltzer which Leorio enjoyed – though continued his ongoing theme of complaining. Finally, they boarded the tallest pendulum ride the pair had ever seen – which led to Leorio hurling (while making eye contact with the person seated on the opposite side of the ride) as it dropped, flying onto some unsuspecting observers. They ran away afterwards after Leorio berated his boyfriend, reminding him that he told him that would happen.

“Sorry you couldn’t handle that one. One more ride?” he pleaded the older man, fluttering his irresistibly golden-brown eyes at him as he rested his hands on the chest of his turtleneck.

Furrowing his eyebrows in surrender, he rolled his eyes. “Fine. But _I’ll_ pick it this time, ‘cause I don’t wanna puke again!” he asserted himself. He took Kurapika’s hand, leading him towards the Ghost Train. “This was my favourite as a child. I’ve always been pretty tough, you see.”

The sounds of blood-curdling screaming sounded from inside the ride – a sound-effect for sure to add to the ambience. Nonetheless, Kurapika hesitated at the door, squeezing his eyes shut as though he was in pain. He stared into space for a moment while Leorio ordered two tickets for the next session, his fingers twitching restlessly before he blinked himself back into reality.

He ignored the pounding of his heart and tried to drown out the sounds around him that seemed to get louder every moment. In a daze, he made his way into the cart sat next to Leorio. As the ride started, the chorus of screaming replayed in his mind, though it sounded different from the sound-effects and more like he had been there to experience it. His leg began bouncing frenetically, never discharging enough nervous energy. Leorio noticed and shot him a concerned look, reaching down to squeeze his hand.

The cars glided into darkness, twisting and bending into further darkness lightened only by occult symbols designed to be blood and ghastly apparitions. Mirrors with cheap jump-scares passed them by, actors designed to look like famous horror villains jumping at the group. Bursting through doors, the ride brought them into a haunted looking mansion, with painted eyes seeming to follow them down the corridor.

Suddenly slowing down, they stared down into an abyss they realised they would shortly succumb to. Kurapika’s heart pounded in his chest at the looming black, but he had no time to dwell before adrenaline shot through his body with a scream as they coursed down the never-ending abyss.

Scarlet red enveloped his sight with a flash, accompanied by a gigantic spider dangling from the ceiling, barely skimming their heads. Screams engulfed the environment, some sound-effects and some inaudible to anyone other than Kurapika. Adrenaline surged through him; he found the flash of scarlet had lingered.

Suddenly he found himself helpless. Small, terrified and submerged in threat. Vivid memories looped themselves through Kurapika’s mind, voices screaming, taunting, noises of violence and colours of blood. Unparalleled fear began to tear him apart from the inside out, the experience of the ride completely lost as jump-scares and hauntings passed him by. Gripping his ears to block out the noises he heard, he shook his head over and over, squeezing his eyes shut as his breath was stolen.

“This can’t be happening this can’t be happening this can’t be happening,” he muttered repetitively.

Leorio gripped his hand with a force intended to comfort and ground, but Kurapika saw only a threat as he lashed out at him, shoving his hand away with a scream. “Don’t TOUCH me!” he growled, perfectly in sync with the sounds of the ride that did not slow down for him or his terror. His red glare threatened Leorio to push him any further into his episode.

Numbed to reality, he half-focused on his scarlet shaking hand and his frantic leg, eyes staring at nothing in the current world but re-experiencing the feelings of persecution, loneliness, grief, gore that was scratched into his mind.

After his entire lifetime had flashed him by, the ride came to a halt. Kurapika sat there, unaware any time had passed before an operator snapped him back to reality, telling him he needs to exit the ride.

Leorio’s soft whisper sounded in his ear. “Pika, the ride has finished. You’re with me. I’m here to protect you no matter what. I’m on your side. You’re safe.” He offered his hand to hoist Kurapika up but he ignored it, shakily arriving on his legs which felt on the verge of collapse.

The sounds of the fair became louder all of a sudden, as though someone had turned the volume up on the community’s voices. He felt the air leave his lungs, feeling a sudden labour in his breathing and another rush of adrenaline as panic surged and spiralled through his mind. Dizziness crept up on him and weakness enveloped him with a strength forcing him to his knees.

Without warning, heat, nausea and blackness overwhelmed him, throwing up on the soft grass next to someone’s unsuspecting shoe before collapsing onto the floor.

“Leorio, I’m- I’m - “ he paused to take a wheezing shaky breath. “I think I’m – I think I’m – Dy – dy – dying,” he stuttered as the words refused to leave his mouth.

“Let’s give it a minute for your strength to come back. Then let’s get you out of here.”

* * *

Feeling the cold, dewy grass beneath his fingertips brought him back to reality, although he had to remind himself every few moments to bring his attention back to the cool sensation of the ground and the feeling of nippy winter wind on his face. His other hand held a shaky cigarette, bringing his breathing back to its regular state.

“I’m sorry I shoved your hand away,” he apologised, hands still shaking from the adrenaline rush that had lasted much too long and led to his stress-and-medication-induced faint. He took off his hat and scarf for the time being to allow the cool air to bring his temperature back down.

“I understand. I’m sorry for not noticing sooner.”

“But the medication has been helping - I thought I might have been able to withstand a little trigger like that,” he fretted, eyes glassy with hopelessness.

“Medication isn’t a cure-all. You’d be lucky to find that. You’ve had chronic pain for years, right? The medication might help, but I know it doesn’t get rid of it completely. And it didn’t look like a little trigger to me, Pika.”

“It was just a sound. Then it built up more and more – everything took me back. But I was able to half-ignore it. Then, obviously you saw it - the spider.” He hesitated before continuing. “And the screams. And the… red? The whole ride went red. Was that real or was that just my eyesight?”

“There was a quick flash of red, right as the spider jumped down. I’m sorry. That all makes perfect sense, and I should’ve predicted that – you know, on a scary ride. I’m an asshole,” he sighed, averting his gaze with remorse for his carelessness.

Kurapika chuckled weakly before leaning over and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, lips grazing his overgrown stubble. “Maybe, but at least you’re my asshole.”

Leorio could not stifle a juvenile laugh at the double-meaning – Kurapika was confused by his laughter, not understanding what he had said. “Anyway, you need your strength back. Shall we get you some food and a drink?”

* * *

The smell of liquor and freshly baked doughnuts wafted into Kurapika’s nostrils, simultaneously churning and rumbling his stomach. Meanwhile, Leorio scanned the menu next to a stand vending fresh doughnuts and liquor.

“Hmmm... mulled wine - have you ever tried that?” He panicked at his own question. “I mean - are you even ok to drink booze?”

Kurapika winced at his question – thoughtful, but hurtful regardless. Truthfully, he was never a drinker; it always made him feel nauseous and he would always end up having panic attacks and throwing up – plus he could count how many times he had drank on both hands. “I’m okay with liquor. Never been a fan. But it doesn’t matter what you put in wine. It’s still wine.”

“Pfft - spoken exactly like a man with no class. Which by the way, you CAN buy with money. See this suit? Pure class.” he bragged, losing any trace of humility with an arrogant grin.

“You have a stain on your shirt,” the Kurta smiled. The smile was wiped from Leorio’s face. “I’ll try the wine, but if I don’t like it then you need to win me a prize. To compensate for my disappointment.”

“Alright – hey. What wine’s used in this?” Leorio enquired to the bartender, acting as a wine connoisseur when really he knew all wine tasted the same.

“House Shiraz,” she responded monotonously.

“What the hell? Why is it so expensive for a bottle then?! That’s cheap stuff!” Leorio lashed out.

“Erm… dunno. Probably wasn’t in the budget? You gonna buy a bottle then or not? That’s 2000.”

“Yeah, I went to medical school – I think I can read, thank you! Alright. I’ll take a bottle – but I’m not happy about it!” he huffed.

“Then don’t buy it.”

Kurapika stared as the exchange went on, feeling himself recoil with second-hand embarrassment. He wondered how Leorio was as a doctor in his day-to-day life, and whether he _actually_ had people-skills and was just pretending he didn’t know how to socialise. Surely not… _No. He wouldn’t embarrass himself for fun. He is actually this bad at socialising_ , he concluded.

Walking away with a bottle of wine in one hand and a box of fresh doughnuts in the other, Leorio padded towards a field with Kurapika following closely behind, an empty bottle of water in his hand. The field was much more isolated and quiet although the sounds of the nearby fair were still all around them. They chowed down on the doughnuts, inhaling them as though they were eating for their lives. Sweet, fluffy and homely. They reminded Kurapika of home; Kurta pastries were often fluffy and sweet, although not made with nearly as much sugar so were far easier to binge-eat. He reminisced in silence until the doughnuts were finished.

“I feel a bit sick now. That was definitely an ambitious portion size,” he concluded disdainfully.

“But do you regret it?” Leorio prodded, opening the bottle of mulled wine and chugging from the bottle. He cringed at the taste – it was much nicer warm, and Kurapika was right; all wine tasted of wine.

“A little, but not enough to deter me from doing it again. May I try some?” The wine was sickly; washing down sweet with sweet was not a good combination. He retched with the burning of his throat and felt his stomach turn acidic. _I wish I hadn’t finished that water…_ “So about that prize you owe me…”

“Yeah. You’re right. This is disgusting. We’ve bought it though, so we may as well finish it!” he concluded absently. Kurapika nodded in agreement. The pair entertained each other as the night went on, seeking comfort in each other’s arms as the chill of the night hit their exposed skin despite the scarves they were wearing. They breathed on each other’s skin to warm each other up, with Kurapika seducing Leorio into a passionate, inebriated kiss under the premise it would “warm him up from the inside”.

The couple discussed their future, and what they hoped things would look like in 10 years. They pointed out their pet peeves with each other – what really grated on them, and what they found begrudgingly endearing. Kurapika posed the question of who would win in a fight, knowing Leorio would delude himself with self-confidence. Leorio and Kurapika joked and reminisced on their first impressions of each other – how they were about to fight each other, but Gon brought them together with his recklessness. Leorio confessed he had desired him from the moment he met him, but was in denial since he had always liked girls and never felt that way towards a man so he acted cold. Kurapika hid how flattered he was and refused to disclose the moment he realised he was into him – however Leorio managed to extract this from him with some tickle torture which led to a well-deserved reflex slap (Kurapika felt bad, but also found it amusing). As they shared the last drops of wine, they found themselves discussing what they liked in bed. Leorio was shocked to find out what Kurapika was into, finding himself flustered at the thought and even more flustered when Kurapika invited him to find out for himself.

Pulling him up from his lazy slump, the doctor (who was a little bit tipsy) led his boyfriend (who was unsteady on his feet) back to the direction of the fair. Leorio told him to scan the booths until he saw a prize he wanted to win. A big bear caught Kurapika’s eyes, for no reason other than he thought it looked cuddly – he was careful not to disclose that, for he knew Leorio would rip into him for his hard façade.

Asking the conditions, Leorio set out to win the bear. He just had to knock down all the milk bottles in one shot. That was simple enough. He soon found that he was 3000 jenny shorter and no closer to winning, lashing out at the booth attendant who didn’t seem to pay any notice. Then, Kurapika volunteered himself to try it out to make Leorio feel better; it backfired when he knocked all the bottles down on his first try.

“What?! You cheated!” Leorio insisted as Kurapika merrily threw his prize in the air and caught it in cocky celebration.

“I think you’re just a sore loser,” he teased, snuggling up to Leorio with his new companion carried under one arm. Suddenly, Leorio found himself being tugged nose-to-nose with the boy by his scarf. “I really like you,” he whispered before standing on his tip toes to plant his lips on the other’s. A flustered Leorio shook his head in shock, still not entirely grounded to the reality that they were finally together and not swooning over each other from afar like they had done for so long. “Anyway, more drinks?”

Heading back to where they came from with a bottle of sake of Leorio’s choosing, a text was sent out to Killua (Gon had lost his phone recently, hence not calling up Kurapika himself) to inform the duo that they were in the field north-east of their meeting point.

* * *

“I dunno, Killua… we’re not even drinking age yet!” Gon fretted as Killua thefted the remnants of the sake bottle from the pair who were too busy indulging in each other’s presence to notice its disappearance.

“Suit yourself, but you better not be upset when _I’m_ having a good time – because I can’t get us anymore!” Killua shrugged, chugging down the sake. He had been tortured with electricity until he had thrown up countless times, but somehow that was still not as bad as the taste that the booze left in his mouth.

“Well… I’m gonna try it with you sometime I _guess_!” he giggled. Killua lightened up as they merrily exchanged the bottle until they shared a buzz from the last drops hitting their tongues. Kurapika was the first to notice it was gone, but in his inebriated state put it down to his lack of awareness and didn’t mention it to Leorio.

“Hey – hey! Where’s the – who took our sake?” Leorio cried out, interrupting his heart-to-heart with Kurapika. He sniffed out the culprits, evident by the drowsy expressions on their faces and the smell of booze emanating from them. As quickly as it arrived, his anger subsided into a warm expression – at least they were in safe hands. “Whatever, join the fun guys! Pika, can I have a cigarette?”

“Oh – you’re one of _those_ smokers! And you criticise my smoking?” he scolded in response, begrudgingly handing him a cigarette and lighting it for him while it was in his mouth before lighting his own. Meanwhile, the children were dramatically coughing in disgust at the stench that had wafted towards them while calling the pair disgusting.

They exchanged social partners, with Leorio and Gon joking around together and pushing each other’s buttons meanwhile Kurapika and Killua found themselves engaged in deep conversation.

“I’ve jus’ always felt like it was my fault, and my recklessness and – _hic_ – I didn’t deserve you guys. I didn’t wanna bring you all back into _my_ fuck-ups. You were only trying t’ help and I put you in danger,” Kurapika agonised over his guilt, words slurring together as one. His expression soured as the contents of his stomach entered his mouth; he swallowed them back down cursing his medication for the headache and dizziness he was experiencing.

“Nah. Your recklessness as much as Gon’s! Plus, nothing has killed us so far and if Gon didn’t _want_ to volunteer, he wouldn’t’ve. You must know that, Kurapika. No one’s fault.”

“I can’t believe that. I regret ev’ry part of my vengeance, too. I made it my whole personality – just hatred. My medicashun helps the hatred I have for myself, but I think that… it makes me miss the highs and lows of self-destrushun. Like, I jus’ wanna… ruin everything, ya know? I have more things that bring me happiness now, so I jus’… don’t. It’d be easy though. But Leorio wouldn’t speak to me and I don’t wanna risk – _hic_ – risk him, or you guyses, again…” He rambled on with a loose string of thoughts, similarly linked by only his regrets and the thoughts that would never entirely go away. Killua listened intently to the older man’s woes as though they were his own – and they were, to an extent.

They’d both suffered a great deal of trauma, and spend the time reflecting on this and their shared experiences which made both of their hearts ache – it was okay for themselves to go through that, but the thought of their friends experiencing the same pain was almost unbearable. As Killua shared the pain he was going through seeing his own best friend reliving his past, Kurapika thought he heard a shake in his voice and saw his eyes brighten to a fluorescent blue as they turned glassy, but the teen hid it as fast as it came on, blinking back what Kurapika suspected were tears.

“So you have to pinky promise me you won’t put us through that again! You guys kept us in check – plus we drifted from Leorio when you left! You know as well as I do that we need all four of us-“ He was interrupted by an assault as Gon flew on top of him, catapulted from Leorio’s arms like an oversized bullet. The two threw hands at each other, play-fighting and tussling for dominance. Ultimately, Killua fought Gon into submission. A white cat with black spots ran past them, and Killua spotted it before Gon did, planking himself on top of Gon to prevent his eyes from wandering. Kurapika stared on in amusement, the feeling of belonging he had lacked his entire life until he had met the group restored. _I love you guys._

* * *

Light-hearted laughter filled the air as Kurapika stumbled through the door with a bear in one hand and Leorio in the other, steadying his off-balance movements. His head spun with incoherent thoughts that he tried to piece together, though his mouth would not synchronise with his arguments. Leorio, meanwhile, walked in a straight line, his state incognito besides the giddy smile on his face accompanied by the rose flush in his cheeks.

“I just find it… so shtrange that everyone takes me so seriously! I’m a good time when I get the sh-chance,” he slurred, hiccupping between sentences. “I’m not as hard as I look! _Everyone_ jus’ wants a hug sometimes!” He tripped over his feet, giggling as he swayed his way back up, one hand clinging to Leorio for stability. Eyes barely open, he looked at his boyfriend innocently for a moment before breaking out into silly laughter.

“And I never get any time off being a doctor, huh? I knew your meds would make you a lightweight, but geez, Pika. Let’s get you to bed?”

Kurapika turned to face the stern man, drawing an alluring look into his feline eyes. “But what if I wanna kiss you first?” he teased before leaning in clumsily to land a rough kiss on Leorio’s mouth that knocked into both of their teeth, but if Kurapika had noticed he pretended he hadn’t.

Leorio allowed him to violate his face for a moment before pulling back. “You know I’d kiss you back if you were in the state to kiss me. And you look five seconds away from passing out.”

Pouting, the cat-eyed boy leaned on Leorio’s shoulder, his eyes sticking themselves together every now and again with weariness. “But I wanna be looooved…” he whined. Leorio rolled his eyes, pushing his glasses up awkwardly.

Bending over to plant a gentle kiss on Kurapika’s forehead, Leorio smiled with endearment. “You are loved. But you also need to go to sleep before you break something. And drink plenty of water.” He submitted to the concerned doctor’s request, an intoxicated smile growing on his face.

“Okaaay… but can you help – _hic_ – you help me get ready for bed… I deserve to be less indep- indepen… less independent I think, and I think I’m right all th’ time… so I gotta be right now too.”

“Sure, Pika.”

Suddenly he felt the contents of his stomach rising, bitter bile flooding his mouth. “Oh – Leo, I feel a bit nausheous…” he confessed, a sense of urgency in his voice.

“Come on, I’ll hold your hair.”

Leorio looked to the man resting at his side, snoring gently and every now and again making a pleased sigh of comfort as he snuggled his head into his side. His arms, warm with contentment and liquor, embraced his bare chest and one of his bare legs was thrown over his side as though he were the prize that was won tonight. Leorio brushed his hair out of his face, placing the blonde locks behind his ears. _Don’t let Pika drink more than two drinks,_ he noted to himself amusedly. Allowing himself to relish the moment they were sharing, he eventually let himself succumb to the alcohol-induced drowsiness that had allowed him to forget his week at work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PHEW that was a long chapter - i hope this makes up for the shorter chapters before :^)  
> more excitement coming soon whenever i get the motivation to write more.  
> ps leorio being a drunk smoker is pretty much almost canon and him being an irresponsible dad is just as canon when he invites gon and killua to drink - obviously this just HAD to happen


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurapika has a hangover, and then a nightmare.

_I’m gonna throw up!_

Awakened with urgency, Kurapika leaped out of bed towards the bathroom before the realities of his hangover hit him. As he hunched over the toilet for release, he was hit by a pounding in his head similar to what he imagined a rubber band snapping against his brain would feel like. The dryness in his mouth was soon replaced by stomach acid as he heaved into the toilet.

The urgency died away, replaced by a full-body fatigue that felt as though he had stayed awake all night at gunpoint running on a treadmill. His body felt tender – he wondered if he had been in a fight the night before. Or was it internal bleeding…? The ache in his bones woke him into reality – his pain was worse than ever. Groggy, nauseatingly dizzy, a fog clouding his thoughts. What time was it? What day was it? In fact – what month was it?

Jolts of electricity shot through his body every few minutes – in those moments, he felt a true appreciation for the medication and life circumstances that had eased his chronic pain to a mild discomfort. However, it seemed the booze-drinking of the night before had taken him back to his pre-medicated spiralling state. He was in agony.

Practically crawling his way back to bed, he felt his stomach aching with a nausea and a hunger so intense he felt he might die. And his mouth was dry again. But as he laid there, he found he could not will himself to move for his fatigue was too great – he was chained to the bed by his pain.

“Leo…” he croaked, hoping to awaken his snoring partner to no avail. He sighed, trying his best to distract his mind from the more-than-unpleasant sensations and fumbling through his bedside cabinet for his pain meds. Dry swallowing, it felt he was gulping down thousands of needles. 

The medication teased him with a painfully slow set in, but as the gabapentin began to ease his pain he found sleeping was maybe an options as long as he could hold the contents of his stomach back.

When he came to, he smelled a nauseatingly mouth-watering waft of sizzling Great Stamp bacon from downstairs and noticed Leorio was missing from his bed. The pounding returned, bringing vomit back up into his mouth. _Propranolol for migraines,_ he noted taking more medication. He repeated the routine he had carried out in the morning before forcing his way downstairs. He threw on the oversized circle glasses from his Chrollo mission to darken the environment and bring some relief to the light-sensitivity that was burning behind his eyes.

The dining table was freshly set with a glass of water, a homemade citrusy smoothie, and his bacon sandwich was already served up.

“You ruined the surprise! I was gonna bring it to you in bed,” Leorio pouted.

“Thanks. I really appreciate it,” he croaked. “I feel like death and some.”

“I thought you would. Drink so much water you can’t stop pissing. I’ll go out and get you my doctor-approved hangover cure,” Leorio reassured him.

An energy drink. A box of aspirin. An M.C. Donald’s own brand M.C. Muffin (pronounced em-cee). Kurapika was roused from his sleep by the following items being placed on his bed, but before he could utter a thank you he brought back up the sandwich from earlier into the bucket he had conveniently placed by his side.

“Greasy food, caffeine, aspirin. Plus nutritious smoothie which… appears to no longer be in your stomach. Trust me. I’m a doctor. By the way, the aspirin will make your propranolol less effective. But it’ll technically make it more effective since it’ll double tackle your headache.” He punctuated his sentence with a kiss on his lover’s forehead, warmed to the touch.

The rest of the day was a blur of waking up, going back to sleep, waking up, eating, going back to sleep and alternating lots of throwing up. When he woke up the next day, he remembered why he hated drinking.

* * *

A stuffed, dark red bag with a rip on the side stood at Kurapika’s feet. Mist shrouded the city he was stood in. An eerily empty black road laid before him, wet with fallen rain. He couldn’t see into the distance. Streetlights taunted him, flickering on and off with a gentle scarlet glow. He found himself compelled to open it despite the visceral hesitation that screamed at him to keep it shut.

The bag was only filled with old belongings and new belongings. But still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong as he dug deeper into the bag which never seemed to end. Suddenly, he felt a jelly-like material leave a residue on his hand. He closed his hand around it. Eyeballs. Scarlet eyeballs. He recoiled in horror, a pool of blood forming at the bottom of the bag. Where did he get those eyes? Whose blood was that? Why was there so much?

Distracting him from his morbid thoughts, a scarlet-red butterfly whizzed past him – how did it get in there? The feeling of relief it brought coerced him into chasing after it. When the butterfly was near, he felt okay. Sprinting after the butterfly, he winded through alleys and more deserted roads, making a soundtrack of wet footsteps. Finally, the butterfly slowed to a halt a few steps away. He crouched down, carefully taking steps so as to not startle the butterfly.

_Gotcha!_

The butterfly fluttered in his hands, its fearful beating suddenly matching the beating of his weakened heart. _No!_ The relief was replaced by a blinding terror that paralysed him to the spot. He released his hands, heart skipping a beat with dread as what came out was not the same butterfly he had caught. A death moth.

The ground crumbled beneath Kurapika’s feet. He found himself falling into a never-ending abyss, or at least one that didn’t want to end. He floated down to the ground where it finally came, and with a sickening thud he landed.

An enemy stood over him. A familiar enemy – one he had defeated (or _thought_ he had defeated). Chrollo Lucilfer. “Stay still. This won’t take long,” he smiled, a warmth and coldness simultaneously alternating in his eyes. He pulled out a needle, placing it at Kurapika’s vein. As Chrollo pushed the substance into his bloodstream, Kurapika felt his eyes roll into the back of his head as a groan escaped his mouth. _Fuuu-uuuuu-ckkkk!_ His body convulsed with pleasure and fear, arrogance and self-loathing, clarity and fog.

“Now I’ve done something for you, you’ll do something for me,” Chrollo whispered. He said no more, but Kurapika understood – his heart pounding in his chest harder than it ever had, and waves of dopaminergic bliss shooting through his body. The man with the slicked-back hair handed him a knife.

Somehow, he found himself in a dusty clearing. He recognised it as the one he had brutalised Uvogin in. A pool of blood filled the crater below. A man in a suit stood a few metres ahead of him, unaware of his presence. _Leorio. I love you._

He crept up upon him and braced himself, regret clouding his mind as he was enveloped by vertigo and fog. A bone-curdling scream sounded out in the clearing – from every direction, yet right in front of him. _Fuck. Fuck!_ His hand was curled around the handle of a blade – the tip was lodged in Leorio’s spine. _No. No, no no no. No. Not this. No!_

The man turned around to look him in the eyes, pain and betrayal clouding his own. “You’re ruthless, Pika.” He fell to the ground with a thud, warmth leaving his body. Kurapika kneeled over him, vision turning red with pain. He turned his head to the sky, now battering down with rain, and screamed into the night.

Upon bringing his gaze back down to the lifeless body that laid in front of him, his heart skipped a beat. Pairo laid in front of him, holes where his eyes should be. And the clearing was littered with the bloodshed. Frantically, he waved his head around, glued to the ground with fear. The knife he was holding… _did I do th-this?_ He dropped the knife and realised it was the head of his fath-

He jolted up with a cold sweat dripping down his forehead and his heart pounding as though he really had been drugged with IV cocaine. Horror gripped his chest. He longed to scream for help, but knew no noise would come out were he to try.

Shaking violently, he whimpered and squeezed his eyes shut to let the last of his tears fall. Deep shaky breaths offered no resolution to the feeling of impending doom, loss of control, bone-shattering remorse. _An oxy would stop this…_

Thankfully, Leorio was sat up too, and a lamp illuminated the room – which was a vivid scarlet to Kurapika. “You were screaming and thrashing,” Leorio commented, his eyes drowsy from being awakened. “Can I hold your hand?” he asked, a concerned warmth in his eyes, reflected by the light of the lamp.

Relief washed over Kurapika. He hadn’t killed his boyfriend. He hadn’t killed his family. The relief was replaced by a gnawing guilt that he had dreamed of doing something so diabolical. _What kind of pathetic fucking excuse for a person dreams about harming their loved ones? I don’t deserve you…_ His mouth was so dry that he could not even gulp down the lump in his throat. Shaking, he reached for the glass of water he kept on his side for when the night terrors hit like this.

Eventually, Leorio fell asleep with his head rested on Kurapika’s bare chest, though it was sticky with sweat. Nights like these, Kurapika just couldn’t go back to sleep. The dread he felt filled him with niggling anxiety and energy he just couldn’t discharge for he was too drowsy to pace but too fearful to sleep. He considered his promethazine prescription. He had only used it a few times – he hated it. Promethazine only made the dreams more vivid; he would rather stick it out. His earphones in his ears, he sought catharsis for some kind – any kind at all – of relief.

_I’ve lived a lot of different lives, been different people many times._

_I live my life in bitterness, and fill my heart with emptiness._

Despite this, anxiety still clawed away at him remorselessly. He found himself thinking about oxycodone again – how his worries would wash away, and he would be unfazed by flashbacks. _I can never make up for what I’ve done. I’ve ruined it all. I’m the purest evil there has ever been._ Tears welled up at the corners of his eyes as the voice in his head reminded him he would never amount to anything - _I've already made my fucking legacy and it's hatred._ _No one deserves to love me._ His breath sped up and the tremor in his hands intensified and an intense chill rushing through his body. _I can't do this. I can't do this anymore._ Heart accelerating again as his mind raced with thoughts, he fumbled through his drawer for his gabapentin prescription. _It's for the pain._ _For the pain… my head hurts a bit. Yeah. And Leorio knows anyway... he never said anything. So he won't be mad._

He popped out pill by pill, swallowing them dry where he could but using water to lubricate his throat when he could only regurgitate the pill back up.

_I wanna be completely weightless, I want to touch the edge of greatness._

_Don’t want to be completely faithless, completely faithless._

Eight capsules later, warmth enveloped him like a best friend. The rawness of the nightmare lifted from his chest, replaced by a lightness that made him feel whole again. An inviting confusion clouded his mind until he could not even fathom any trauma from his past. Anxiety-inducing memories were blocked from recalling – he was safe. Love filled his heart.

_When the time comes around…_

_When the lights will go out…_

The gentle light glowing in the background felt homely and comforting. His vision was cloudy and a little bit blurry, just enough to tell him he was having a good time. A gentle smile bloomed on his face, relaxation burying deep into his body as he fell into the mattress that snuggled into him. His arms felt heavy though his fingers felt like feathers.

_When the time comes around…_

_When the lights will go out…_

When he closed his eyes, vivid images that were dream-like came to him unprompted, easing him even further into relaxation until a euphoric drowsiness allowed sleep to take him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes the night terror is important to the story and i made a kurapika playlist so expect more self-indulgent song lyrics. you get an e-cookie if you recognise any songs!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Date night goes just as wrong as it does right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> neurodivergent moment: kurapika hyperfixation way too fucking intense, cant think about anything else. this is my kurapika playlist - https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5NJ7JP6SzY2pAtD0dmaOrW?si=UcfnjOucQK6tH0y_J83-mw all songs that remind me of kurapika in vibes and sometimes in lyrics!  
> KURTA LORE!  
> fluffy smut under the break :) not too graphic but was v fun to write hehe

Lit by the glow of a red candle, two men sat in an empty restaurant, ambient with a seductive darkness. They took the window seats; the view of the world outside was that of a shining full moon that made Kurapika’s heart skip a beat with awe whenever he looked at it. Leorio donned a velvet black suit, while Kurapika had stuck to his traditional garb.

“We haven’t finished our wine endeavour. That mulled wine didn’t count, by the way. It was more like slightly alcoholic juice!” Leorio remarked, browsing the drinks menu.

“I’m still not sure I understand how wine can taste any less like wine,” Kurapika grinned, a gleam of love in his eye. He traced the wine glass with his fingertip flirtatiously. “But you’ve offered to pay, so your wish is my command your majesty.”

“Your maje-“ Leorio blushed profusely. “Don’t turn me on in public!” he whispered aggressively, avoiding eye contact. “Anyway, I insist. But I’m limiting you to two drinks this time because I don’t want a redo of last time. And because I let you have the booth seat.”

They shared laughter, interlacing their fingers on top of the table. They were interrupted by a waiter in a dapper suit approaching them.

“Good evening. Can I get you gentlemen any drinks?”

Leorio pretended to browse the menu, though he had already made up his mind on impressing Kurapika. “A bottle of your most expensive house wine, please.”

“Of course. I’ll return shortly to take your food orders – would you like to try the wine first, sir?”

“No – I don’t really care. Just bring the wine, please.”

Kurapika courteously hid the disgust in his face as he sipped the wine ever so slowly. _This is expensive wine? They surely just slapped a price tag on this and labelled it fancy._ Leorio was not so courteous, scrunching his face up as the first sip hit his tongue.

“How do you find it sir? Is it to your liking?” the man asked.

Hiding his amusement, Kurapika watched the man struggle to maintain his posh façade. “Very floral aroma, with a silky mouthfeel…? My favourite, in fact,” he responded, unsure of himself.

“I’m glad it’s to your tastes, sir. What can I get for you?”

Kurapika decided on the white wine mussels – after all, it was a seafood restaurant so why not try the seafood special of the day? Leorio decided on the medium rare steak fillet – to which Kurapika teasingly interrupted to tell him it was pronounced fill-ay in a fancy restaurant.

Waiting for their main to arrive, Kurapika found himself lost in thought while Leorio ranted about his day at work yet again. He found himself looking at the moon again, mesmerised by its power. It flickered with energy – at least, he was sure it was energy for why else did he feel so full? The unease deepened the longer he looked, but he couldn’t take his eyes away. He wondered if his ancestors were among the stars tonight. Not realising Leorio was still talking, he blurted out – “Do you think the moon has power over us?”

Leorio stopped, confused. “Umm... I think it’s just a rock?”

Stifling a giggle, Kurapika took another sip of his wine. “I don’t know. I’ve been reminiscing on the night with number 11 of the spiders. The moon was scarlet – a blood moon. On the night I avenged my ancestors. It was full, too. And I felt a strength the likes of which I’ve never felt since…” He trailed off.

“Did your clan have any traditions or whatever?” Leorio asked him, tipping his head with curiosity.

“Yeah. The full moon was when we would call to our ancestors. We believe they’re closest to us when the moon is at its full strength. It gives them the energy to walk closer among us, since they are so far away. We always prayed together on a full moon. A few of us would even have dreams about someone we’d lost.” His heart wrenched as he spoke about the traditions that had been abandoned. He hadn’t been keeping them alive since his spiral into self-destruction. He was too focused on other things, like keeping the pain at bay.

“What about you? Do you… dream of them?”

“No. Not really. Not the way I used to – just vivid memories. I don’t think…” he hesitated. “…that their souls were given the opportunity to ascend. They weren’t put to rest…” He choked up, his eyes glazing over. “They didn’t get a proper burial.

There were too many bodies for me to-to send them all off. Any of them. Because I didn’t know if the ones who did it were going to come after me so I just fled.” A single tear fell onto his cheek – he wiped it away with haste. His voice shook. “Maybe I’d be at more peace if I’d done what I was meant to. Even if they are looking down on me, I imagine they’re disappointed in me more than anything.”

Leorio just listened. He did not try to say anything to make it better, for he was a doctor but this was not his wound to heal. He held Kurapika’s hand, planting a consolation kiss before tightening his grip as though to say _I’m here_. They sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, Kurapika shakily sipping on his glass of red wine as he sniffled and tried to hold back his tears.

Interrupting their moment, the waiter returned with two dishes, steam billowing from them as he placed them in front of the pair. “For you, sir, the white wine mussels. And for you, sir, the Azian fillet – cooked medium rare. How are you for drinks?”

“We’re fine, thank you,” Kurapika responded, finishing off his second glass. The waiter poured him a third glass – Leorio’s eyes widened in alarm, remembering his state the night of the fair. Kurapika noticed and responded only with a mischievous grin and a flirty kick under the table.

They engaged in a game of footsie as they ate, Kurapika giving away no routine timing with his poker face and adamant to get the last word. A middle-aged couple were being shown to their seats and shot them a judgemental glare before muttering to each other. Spotting this, smoke almost seemed to blast from Leorio’s ears as he reddened in the face. Leaving nothing to the imagination, the tipsy blonde got up from his seat and made a new seat of Leorio’s lap. “Let them stare,” he smiled. “May I try some of your steak, please?”

A flustered Leorio obliged, cutting off a small piece. “It's not going to feed itself,” Kurapika teased, coercing Leorio into placing the fork in his mouth. “By the way, you haven’t won footsie. You’ll see.” He gave Leorio’s leg a seductive touch, lingering a moment too long, before hoisting himself off and returning to his seat as though nothing happened. Meanwhile the bearded man blinked speechlessly with his imagination running wild and an undisguised red flush to his face.

* * *

Giggly, drowsy, hot, Kurapika pushed his abdomen closer against a shirtless Leorio’s, pinned down by the wrists. Leaning into the crook of the helpless man’s neck, he planted soft yet passionate kisses all the way down, all the way up, against his ear, against his jawline. A phone call interrupted from Leorio’s phone – he declined and they giggled at the timing. Leorio looked embarrassed, ready to apologise profusely, to which Kurapika silenced him with a passionate, sweet, wine-flavoured kiss. Quick flashes of red let Leorio know how wound up Kurapika was getting, struggling his arms free to push Kurapika’s lips closer to his as they breathed in each other’s scent. His hands tangled in his locks, not as soft as they were before from the sweat that was building up on his hands.

“You’re so beautiful,” he moaned gently into his ear over and over as Kurapika continued his journey, planting more and more kisses over every inch of Leorio’s chest as if he could not get enough, as if he had a surplus of kisses to give. Leorio shifted underneath him, thrusting his hips up with arousal as he pushed his hands up Kurapika’s shirt to grip his waist. “Fuck, Pika,” he groaned. The blonde in the straddle bit his lip with a taunting grin, empowered by the hold he had on Leorio as he squirmed beneath him.

He drew his kisses back up towards his neck before planting a hand beneath his chin, tilting it upwards to plant delicate kisses on his lips, pulling away every time Leorio tried to gain the upper hand by deepening their kiss. A taunting smile grew on Kurapika’s face, his eyes in an alluring and irresistible glare as Leorio’s frustration built. He trailed his fingertips down Leorio’s cheek, down his neck, down his chest before thumbing his boxers. Leorio melted beneath his touch as Kurapika made his way down.

It was when he got the last word in, finishing off their game of footsie, that the tables turned. “I told you I’d win,” he’d purred. Leorio’s drive kicked in, both of them being hopelessly competitive.

It was Leorio’s turn and he found the blonde was not as dominant as he made himself out to be, writhing beneath his touch as he erupted into a sonata of shivers beneath his lover’s lips. When the man’s hands wrapped around his throat, he lost all sense of control, allowing himself to succumb to the flight of his inhibitions. His eyes glowed red with lust, urging Leorio on as his mind fogged up with pleasure. “I’m yours, I’m all yours,” he groaned into Leorio’s ear.

Seeing Kurapika so vulnerable, so helpless to his touch gave him all the rush he needed – possessiveness and insatiable desire – to take his frustration away.

“I’ll make sure to remind you to put your phone on silent next time,” Kurapika teased as the pair laid sweaty but satisfied on top of each other. Leorio rolled his eyes, reminded of the awkward interruption. Their arms wrapped around each other like they needed each other, occasionally planting sweet drunken kisses on the other’s cheek all over until they found their way back to each other’s lips. “Always keep an eye out! I strike when you least expect it,” he giggled, poking him on the chest.

Cuddled up in each other’s arms, they found their way to a still and blissful sleep, eyes closing with a gentle smile on their faces as they exhaled content, wine-scented breaths on each other’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if ive ever published smut i was 13 or 14 at the time so i hope it wasnt too cringey since im 19 now lmao  
> alternative chapter summary: kurapika's top surgery has unexpected benefits such as not overheating during sex and giving him the confidence to be the incubus of his slutty little dreams  
> also completely canon that kurapika is a masochist and wants to be slapped and spit on but leorio doesnt want to disrespect him like that and nearly cries when he chokes him


End file.
